


But I Lived

by exuberant_imperfection, kate882



Series: What Makes A Hero [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M, Midotaka day 2016, Slow Burn, drugdealer!takao, underground doctor!Midorima
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exuberant_imperfection/pseuds/exuberant_imperfection, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate882/pseuds/kate882
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Takao can never be trusted with injuries, Nijimura regrets everything, Midorima keeps a list of things he doesn't understand, and apparently if you're ever confused about feelings or sexuality Google has you covered. </p><p>Or: How Midorima and Takao go from being an underground doctor and a drug dealer to helping out a superhero team known as the Generation of Miracles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to check out the art we got commissioned for this story, you should check out [this link](http://kate882.tumblr.com/post/145832874637/but-i-lived-chapter-1-exuberantimperfection).

For the past several months, Midorima had been using every connection he had, scouring the vast underground network of criminals in the city, trying to find one specific drug dealer. However, it turned out he ended up meeting the guy randomly on the street one day. Considering the dealer’s… _eccentric_ reputation, Midorima couldn’t actually say he was very surprised to spot him sprinting down the street with a mildly alarmed look on his face. He grabbed the guy’s collar as he passed him, stopping him in his tracks and asking, “Are you Takao Kazunari?”

“Shit!” Takao would have fallen over if it weren’t for the grip on his shirt keeping him upright. He looked Midorima up and down, deemed him not one of the people chasing him, and dragged him into an alleyway. “Sure am, what can I do for you?” he asked as he watched the street.

“I need a regular supplier for—”

Takao slapped a hand over Midorima’s mouth when he heard footsteps, watching the men that had been chasing him run past the alley they were in before relaxing and moving his hand. “Sorry about that; I may have pissed someone off,” he explained with a bright smile. He then narrowed his eyes after he got a proper look at him, but kept the smile in place. “You know, it’s rude to bring a gun to a drug deal. It implies you don’t trust the dealer.”

Midorima eyed him with suspicion and something like trepidation—there was pure _trouble_ behind that grin. And the shirt didn’t help either. Takao seemed to be attempting humor of some kind by wearing a bright red shirt declaring that people should _Say No to Drugs_. “Of course I don’t; you’re a criminal,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“I’ve got news for you, buddy. You’re trying to buy illegal drugs. So are you. And calling me a criminal is rude as well,” Takao replied, reaching into Midorima’s coat pocket to take the gun. “Ohhh, this is nice. Take this from your parents or something?” He hummed as he emptied the bullets onto the ground and then held the empty gun out to Midorima.

Midorima glared at him irritably, taking the gun and returning it to his pocket without dignifying the question with a response. “Don’t _you_ have a gun?”

“If I had a gun, do you think I’d be hiding in this alleyway with you?” Takao asked him with raised eyebrows. “But if I had a gun that would be fine, because I have illegal goods to protect. If _you_ have a gun, you’re threatening those goods and the person carrying them. If you had gone to, say, _Haizaki_ with that thing in your pocket, he would have shot you on sight.”

“Well, I didn’t go to Haizaki. I’m not suicidal,” Midorima replied scathingly. “I came to _you_ because, supposedly, you’re good at what you do, and you're generally not homicidal. Which is, apparently, all you can ask for in a drug dealer.”

“I'm also really good at card tricks. So you can ask for that as well. But only when I'm stoned. Only time I can pull those off,” Takao said conversationally. “But let's get down to business, and no, not with the Huns. What's your poison?” He looked Midorima up and down appraisingly. “You look like a prescription drug kinda guy. Like, honestly, who wears slacks to a drug deal? Let me guess, got injured or something, doc prescribed you something, and now you can't get off of it?”

Midorima frowned at him. “They’re not for me. They’re for my hypothetical patients. I’m starting a clinic.”

Takao frowned right back at him. “A clinic? _Here?”_

“Yes, here,” Midorima answered simply, but after a moment’s hesitation, he offered a bit more explanation. “I need a job to pay for medical school. The job I’m best at, I can’t do legally without a license. So, I’ll be doing it illegally.”

Takao nodded. “Well, lucky for you, we happen to need a doctor around here. I mean, I’m sure it won’t happen to you, but the guy before you got shot last week, so we really need one.”

Midorima leveled a glare at him. “And you mocked me for carrying a gun.”

“You don’t take one to the drug deal, but you definitely keep one in your office.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then added, “For free healthcare, I’ll teach you how to not get yourself killed when dealing with criminals on a daily basis, and for twenty bucks I’ll spread the word about your doc business.”

Midorima blinked at the sudden transition to talking business, but supposed he shouldn’t really be surprised, considering that a drug dealer _was_ technically a businessman… of sorts. “I am certainly interested, but I would want to discuss it in more detail. Preferably when you are not being chased by people who I assume are either dangerous criminals or the police.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Takao. “That is the address of my office, my name and phone number, and a list of the most basic substances I will need in order to get the clinic up and running. I can give you five hundred dollars upfront if you can bring all of that to me at my office sometime in the next few days. Is that acceptable?”

Takao read through the things on the paper. “Yeah, sure. Works for me.” He looked up at Midorima with a grin. “One more thing. Your first lesson on dealing with criminals is: don’t let them take your gun. Why the hell did you just _let_ me take that? I could have shot you with your own weapon.” He peeked out of the alley. “If you bring a gun, be ready to use it. And if you’re not going to hide it well, don’t bother. Either hide it where I can’t find it, or have it out and ready to use. And lastly...” He reached into his pocket and pulled out Midorima’s wallet, took the five hundred dollars, and tossed the wallet back to him. “If someone reaches into your pocket: make sure what you saw them take is the only thing they took.” He winked and then ran off in the opposite direction of where his pursuers had been heading.

Midorima stared after him, equal parts affronted, regretful, and reluctantly impressed.

* * *

“Heyo, Shin-chan,” Takao said casually as he walked into the office without even so much as knocking. The office looked kind of drab, but there were still boxes around, so maybe it would get better. Gray walls and stark white lighting weren’t very promising though. Neither were the boarded windows, but those had been there for a while.

Midorima looked up abruptly from his desk, startled by Takao’s entrance… and the random nickname. “...Excuse me?”

“Got your stuff,” Takao continued as if Midorima hadn’t spoken, dropping a bag full of drugs on the table. “I did text you the price, right?”

Pushing aside the matter of the odd entrance, Midorima nodded and stood up. “Wait here,” he said as he went into the other room to take a stack of cash from a hidden safe, and then returned, counting it one more time quickly before handing it over to Takao.

While Takao also counted the money, Midorima watched in contemplative silence for a moment before asking, “What’s your sign?”

“Huh?” Takao glanced up with furrowed brows. “Sign? Like street signs? I own a stolen stop sign. I guess that’s mine. In a way.”

“You—” Midorima began, but then decided it was probably best not to ask about that. “...No. I meant your astrological sign.”

“Oh. I’ve got no clue,” Takao said, tucking the money into his wallet. “Never seemed like information worth learning.”

Midorima frowned. “Not worth learning?” he said with a scoff. “It’s crucial to living your optimal lifestyle. When is your birthday?”

Takao raised an eyebrow, but decided to humor Midorima, since the guy was buying drugs from him. “November twenty-first.”

Midorima nodded consideringly. “A Scorpio… if I remember correctly, you are fourth in luck today. Your lucky item is a scarf and your lucky color is black.”

Takao wasn’t really sure what to do with that information other than laugh. “I guess my hair has me covered on color then.”

“You should check Oha Asa every day to stay on fate’s good side,” Midorima commented as he took the drugs out of the bag, one by one to check that they were the correct types and amounts, before beginning to put them away in various cabinets and drawers around the office.

“I sure won’t. So, Shin-chan, how would you like a first customer? Cause I’m currently bleeding under this hoodie, and I’m pretty sure I need stitches,” he said with a grin on his face.

Midorima paused, taking a moment to register what he’d just said, then turned to look at him with alarm. “You’re _what?_ ” he asked, but was already walking over in doctor mode. He pointed at the nearest bed and demanded, “Sit down and show me. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Takao saluted him before sitting down on the bed, lifting his shirt and smiling sheepishly at at Midorima as he revealed the ragged cut and several bruises. “Also, can you tell me if I have a concussion?”

It only took a moment’s glance for Midorima to concur that yes, he would need stitches. “Take your shirt off and lie down,” he said, getting out the necessary supplies. “How did this happen?”

“Bossy,” Takao commented, but complied anyway. “Fell off a fire escape. Got cut on the way down. Not a big deal, but I figured I should probably have you take a look at it.”

Midorima pictured the rusty, filthy condition of most of the fire escapes in this part of town, and grimaced, pouring extra antiseptic onto the cloth he was holding. “Dare I ask _why_ you were on a fire escape?” he inquired, as he began to carefully clean the wound, partly out of morbid curiosity, and partly to test how clear Takao’s memory of the accident was, as that could help indicate whether or not he was concussed.

“Um, well, you see, there was this cat...” Takao trailed off. “I don’t remember much else about it, but I think I was trying to pet the cat and one of the railings broke.”

Midorima definitely didn’t laugh—he was supposed to be a professional, he didn’t take amusement in his patients’ misfortune—he just… scoffed. Yes, a scoff, definitely not a laugh. “I see. You risked your life to pet a cat,” he said, tone carefully unaffected.

“Well I sure didn’t think I was risking my life at the time. But, yeah. I mean, I’ve risked it for less. You saw me running from those guys the other day after all.” Takao didn’t elaborate further on that, but he may have insulted one of them... for no reason other than to get a reaction. The intended reaction had not been death threats. Or attempted violence. But hey, live and learn. Or not. Probably not. He never seemed to really learn from these encounters.

Midorima just gave a noncommittal hum in response as he focused on threading the surgical needle and began to stitch up the wound. He asked Takao several questions about his symptoms, partly to distract him from the uncomfortable sensation of the stitching, and partly to determine whether he had a concussion. As Midorima tied the last suture and began to bandage the wound, he said, “You most likely have a minor concussion. You’ll need physical and mental rest to recover— probably for at least a week or so. You’re free to do so here if you have no safer place to go.”

“Resting isn’t really in my job description, Shin-chan, but thanks for the stitches,” Takao said with a grin, hopping off of the bed and pulling his shirt and jacket back on.

Midorima grabbed his arm to prevent him from walking off, glaring at him sternly. “If you don’t, you run the risk of a secondary concussion, leading to lasting, and potentially fatal, brain damage. You _need_ to rest.”

He waved off Midorima’s concern. “Trust me, I’ve had worse. I’m a drug dealer. I hang around dangerous people. I think I can handle this.”  

“That is idiotic. There are people who die easily preventable deaths from untreated concussions,” Midorima insisted, wondering how the hell this guy had survived his life up until this point.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’ll take the day off, and I won’t even do any drugs today if it’ll make you calm down.”

Midorima frowned, but released his arm. He’d had enough experience with idiots in his lifetime so far to know when they were too stupid to listen to reason. “Very well,” he said reluctantly, then added as parting advice, “If you choose to take painkillers, use acetaminophen, at least. Everything else makes you more prone to internal bleeding.”

“Don’t have any. I’ll just go without them,” Takao said with a shrug. He flashed a grin at Midorima and headed for the exit.

* * *

Barely a week later, Takao stumbled into Midorima’s office, and proceeded to fall face-first on the floor with a groan. “I think I need assistance. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”

Midorima jumped up from where he’d been at his desk doing paperwork, rushing over to help him up and over to a bed. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”

“That is... that’s such a good question. Oh my god, I have no idea.” He tried to laugh but ended up coughing instead.

Midorima sighed, catching a whiff of pot upon inhaling— although he was sure that wasn't the only drug Takao was on, considering the state he appeared to be in. “Can you at least tell me whether the injury is above or below your waist? Or are you too high for that as well?”

“...No? Wait… Yeah. Yeah, I don't know,” he answered after a moment of consideration.

“...Alright,” Midorima said, rubbing his temple and thinking that he should really start charging extra for people who came into his clinic under the influence of any illegal substances. “Just… start taking off your clothes until we find your injury, then,” he said with a grimace, grabbing a hospital gown from a shelf nearby.

“Can you do it for me, Shin-chan?” Takao asked, sending a pout Midorima’s way to try and convince him.

Midorima frowned at him. “I don’t see that you’re physically incapable of doing it yourself. Please do so.”

“I couldn't even stand up!” Takao protested, but clumsily started working on getting his pants off. When he didn't see anything there he tried to take off his shirt and ended up falling back against the bed with a small sound of pain. “Above, to answer your question.” Now he sort of recalled getting hit in the ribs with a baseball bat.

Midorima lifted his shirt to see severe bruising all over his torso, the skin broken in several places, and carefully helped Takao get the shirt off before examining him, gently applying pressure to different spots on his ribcage to identify where the worst damage was and how bad it was, exactly.

Takao let out a pained yelp when Midorima prodded his left rib cage. “Please don't do that.”

“At least one broken rib, I see.” Midorima took a mental note of the spot and left it alone. He lightened his touch even more, finding three more cracked ribs on the left side and two more on the right side. “You will be spending the night here, at _least_ ,” he said firmly. “If you strain this many cracked ribs, they may cave and puncture your lungs.”

“So insistent on me staying with you each time I come here. And this time you're doing it while I'm barely dressed in a bed. One might think you were hitting on me, Shin-chan.” He tried laughing, but again just ended up coughing with a pained frown.

“I am not _,_ ” Midorima replied, beginning to clean the wound where the skin was broken. “I'm simply trying to do my job. Specifically, the very difficult job of keeping an idiot from causing his own death.”

“I didn't do this to myself! What do you mean causing my own death?” Takao protested.

“I meant keeping you here until you can walk without risking further damage to your ribs.”

“I don't even know _how_ to walk right now. I'm on like three different drugs and I only know what two of them are.”

Midorima stopped what he was doing and _looked_ at him. “How stupid _are_ you? What kind of drug dealer doesn't bother to check what kind of drugs he's taking?”

“I'm sure I checked at the time when I was taking the stuff, but right now I've got no clue,” Takao said without concern.

Midorima sighed and made a mental note to take a blood sample later to make sure he hadn't taken any fatal combinations of drugs.

* * *

“Shin-chan, do you think I live too dangerously?” Takao asked about a month and a half later as he brought in a new supply of drugs for Midorima.

“Considering you're my most frequent patient, I would say yes, you do,” Midorima answered, counting out the cash before handing it to Takao in exchange for the drugs.

“Rude. But, like, would you dump me for it? My, now ex, girlfriend just did. Something about wanting it to end because of a breakup instead of my death.” He didn't seem particularly bothered by the breakup as he counted the money before passing the drugs to Midorima. “And she took my pot! How rude is that?”

“Quite rude, I suppose,” Midorima replied absently, checking that all the drugs were there. And then he had a realization that his girlfriend probably had had a reason for bringing up the issue, and looked back at Takao with concern. “Does that mean you have some sort of injury I should be looking at?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, but don’t worry, I already stitched myself up.” He waved Midorima's concern off.

Midorima stared, considerably more concerned. “...With _what?_ ”

“You know... I’ve gotta go.” He started edging towards the door.

“Takao…”

“Yes, Shin-chan?” He’d reached the door.

“With. What?” Midorima repeated, reaching out to grab his arm before he could make an escape.

“Oh, you know, just a bit of twine and a syringe needle, but I’ve used worse.”

Midorima felt his eye twitch, tightening his grip on Takao’s arm. “You are _not_ leaving this office with twine stitches. Show them to me. Now,” he demanded, pointing to the bed.

“But Shin-chan, I have other deliveries to make!” Takao protested.

“You also have _twine stitches_ in your body, and they are coming out _right now,_ ” Midorima argued, beginning to pull him towards the bed. “You have all day to finish your deliveries. I think you can spare a little time to make sure you don’t have to amputate a body part due to infection.”

“Wait, wait, taking them out sounds painful!” Takao protested, struggling—to no avail—in Midorima’s grip.

Midorima arched an eyebrow at him. “And putting them in wasn’t?”

“Yeah, but why cause more pain? I think it will be fine. I lived that time I used safety pins for stitches!”

Just imagining it sent a shudder down Midorima’s spine, and he found himself wondering, yet again, how Takao had managed to survive his life up until this point. He chose to push the image out of his head and move on—he already felt a headache coming on, he didn’t need all this extra stress in his life. “Just… get on the damn bed already,” he said, rubbing his temple. “I can use a local anesthetic if you’re _that_ concerned about the pain.”

“That would be nice,” Takao replied, rolling up his pants leg to reveal the stitches.

Midorima grimaced at the messy work, admitting internally that it would have allowed for the wound to heal sufficiently… but just barely. “If you left these in, the chance of infection would be incredibly high. Not to mention, they would have left a large, disfiguring scar,” he said as he prepared the anesthetic and injected it into Takao’s leg, just above the injury.

“Eh, I've got a few of those. Check this one out.” He rolled up his pants further to reveal a long jagged scar. “Hurt like a bitch, Shin-chan, but I lived.”

Midorima shook his head. “You can’t just use the phrase ‘but I lived’ to justify making such dangerous medical decisions.” He tapped Takao’s leg a few times, checking his reaction to make sure it was numbed, and began carefully removing the twine from the wound.

“I feel like it's a reasonable thing to say. Of all the things that could have killed me, it wasn't this decision. Makes perfect sense to me,” Takao argued, keeping his eyes on Midorima instead of watching his leg get torn back open.

Midorima just sighed, not interested in debating Takao’s clearly skewed sense of logic, instead focusing his attention to the wound. He carefully cut one stitch at a time, pulling the pieces of twine out with a pair of surgical tweezers. When he went to change his gloves and thread the needle for the new stitches, he finally noticed Takao’s eyes on him, but only spared him a brief glance before returning to his work.

“At least I’m not that guy.” Takao pointed to a man covered nearly from head to toe in bandages a few beds away from him. “What happened to him anyway? Did he enter a cursed mummy tomb or something?”

“No,” Midorima said flatly, glancing over at the other patient. “He picked a fight with someone without knowing they had the power of spontaneous combustion.”

Takao winced. “Oh man, that was dumb.”

Midorima raised an eyebrow at him. “You can’t talk.”

“I can though. I’m talking right now.” Takao grinned at him.

“Unfortunately,” Midorima muttered.

Takao let out an offended gasp, but was ignored, so he stayed quiet for a minute or so.

“Hey, Shin-chan?” Takao said to get Midorima's attention.

Midorima carefully finished the stitch he was in the middle of, tying off the thread before looking up. “Yes, Takao?”

“Why are you so insistent on fixing this for me? The last doctor here just let me do whatever as long as I was still functioning as his dealer—since being the dealer is my form of payment. I would have been fine with the way it was.”

A small frown crossed Midorima’s face. “Well, I must say it’s a good thing he never went on to become a real doctor, as he sounds as though he was unpleasant to deal with. Unprofessional as well—he clearly did not understand how to treat his patients. You are a person, not a tool to be discarded if you are broken.” He paused for a moment, then suddenly felt self-conscious, clamping his mouth shut as he looked back down to continue the stitches.

Takao blinked a few times, surprised by the answer. He was sure there were plenty of people who would not agree with Midorima’s assessment of him, considering his profession. “He was pretty unpleasant. Probably what got him shot. I like you a lot better.”

“I’m not here to be liked,” Midorima replied after a short silence. “I’m here to help people.” And then he begrudgingly added, “...And to pay for medical school.”

“Too bad. You're liked anyway. Deal with it. And you’ve somehow managed to not piss off most of the people that come in here, from what I've heard.”

“That’s… reassuring, I suppose,” Midorima murmured absently as he leaned over to complete a particularly difficult stitch.

“Should be. Your reputation is actually better than mine, I think, since you don't get into all of the fights,” Takao told him.

Midorima paused and looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “...How many of these injuries I treat for you are from fights that _you_ picked, exactly?”

“Define ‘picked’,” Takao said before laughing. “Not many, Shin-chan. It comes with the job. People think mugging the dealer is a good idea sometimes to get free drugs. Especially if the dealer looks smaller than them and isn't known for carrying a gun. Granted, I'm sure my personality encourages plenty of people, but I don't go out with the intention of getting hurt. The thing is, it doesn't matter who starts a fight. If I beat the shit out of one guy, he and his friends are gonna be pissed at me, and suddenly I've got people who don't like me, probably trying to encourage other people not to like me. That's how bad reputations work. But I have the thing they need, so I'm still useful to keep around, and I'm not as bad as Haizaki.”

Midorima hummed consideringly as he returned to the stitches again. “Why is _he_ still alive, then?”

“‘Cause he's got a high kill rate for people who try to off him. People are terrified of him. Not many people wanna even try to kill him. The risk of their own death is too high. At least most of my customers like me. Considering how many people I deal to, it's actually a pretty low number that I'm getting into fights with, but when I do I can't say I'm aiming to kill people. Haizaki will kill you, no questions asked, if he even _thinks_ you're trying to start shit with him. I'm the safer option by comparison. After all, isn't that why you came to me? Not known for being homicidal, but I am good at my job.”

“That is true,” Midorima answered simply, tying off the last stitch.

Takao finally looked down at his leg when Midorima finished. “It does look better when you do it,” he admitted.

Midorima just nodded as he taped a bandage over the wound. “It might be several more minutes before the anesthetic has worn off enough for you to walk safely,” he said, going back to sorting through the delivery Takao had just brought him.

Takao nodded, covering the wound with his pants leg again and lying on the bed to wait.

Midorima had fully expected to watch in exasperation as Takao wobbled out with a numb leg and a stupid grin, calling over his shoulder, “It's fine, Shin-chan!” But there was only silence in response to his instruction, so he turned to confirm that Takao was, in fact, still lying on the bed like he was supposed to, and gave him an odd look.

Takao just grinned at the look, before settling more comfortably into the bed, pulling out his phone to let his other deliveries know he'd be a bit late.

Midorima gazed for a moment longer before he just shook his head and went to back to putting away the new shipment of drugs and tidying up the office a bit.

After a few minutes of lying there Takao eventually drifted off to sleep. He’d been pretty busy most of the week, so he hadn’t gotten much down time and was exhausted.

It only took five minutes for Midorima to become suspicious of the silence before he turned to see that Takao had fallen asleep. He was tempted to let him sleep—he was clearly rather tired if he’d passed out so quickly—but Midorima also knew that he was a busy person with a dangerous occupation, and that he probably shouldn’t shirk his obligations. “Takao.” He approached the bed, intending to shake Takao’s shoulder if calling his name didn’t work… but he ended up standing there for a moment looking down at his peaceful, sleeping face with mild fascination. Then he realized he was staring, and shook his head to clear it, repeating, “Takao,” slightly louder.

“Hmm?” Takao blinked his eyes open to look sleepily up at Midorima. “Shin-chan?”

For some reason, Midorima’s brain went a little fuzzy, so it took him a second before he managed to reply, “You fell asleep.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” Takao said, clearly not very awake yet, curling up to try and go back to sleep.

“Don’t you have things to do?” Midorima said with a disapproving frown.

“Probably. What time is it?”

Midorima checked his watch. “Nearly three.”

Takao groaned, but reluctantly sat up. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” He got out of the bed, but had forgotten about the numbing medicine, and promptly collapsed when his leg didn’t work with him.

Midorima managed to get a hand under Takao’s arm before he fell all the way, and began to pull upwards to help him back to his feet. “Slowly. Go _slowly._ ”

That had certainly woken him up. “Yeah, good idea.” He gave himself a moment to get used to standing before hesitantly letting go of Midorima.

“If you can’t walk, you should sit back down,” Midorima said, watching him carefully for any signs of falling again. “I simply thought it would be imprudent to allow you to fall asleep for an extended period of time.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Takao said... and then fell onto Midorima. “I’m not even high and this is happening to me,” he whined.

Midorima stumbled back a step, but managed to catch Takao around the waist. “Are you _sure_ you’re not high?” he grumbled as he pushed Takao back into an upright position, hands lingering on his waist until he looked like he was standing stably again.

“I’m very sure. But I also still can’t feel most of my leg, so it’s not easy to walk on,” Takao replied, managing a slow step towards the door.

“If you’re not going to sit back down, would you like a crutch?” Midorima asked, keeping an eye on his leg.

“Nah, my next meeting isn’t with the best crowd. I don’t need them knowing that my leg isn’t at its best. I’ll be fine. I’ll probably get used to it on the walk there,” he said with a shrug.

Midorima hesitated for a moment, then decided against pestering him about it this time, instead standing back with his arms crossed, giving him a stern look. “Well… don’t get yourself killed.”

Takao flashed him a bright smile. “Haven't been yet!” he said as he made it to the door.


	2. Chapter 2

“Well, this looks unpleasant,” Takao said after strolling into Midorima’s office and surveying the scene before him.

“Fuck off, Kazunari. I’m borrowing your doctor for a minute,” the guy with the gun said, barely sparing Takao a glance.

Midorima was pointing his own gun right back at the other guy from across the room, gazing at him steadily. “Get out of here, Takao. I have this under control.”

Takao gave him a once-over, eyes zeroing in on Midorima’s gun—which still had the safety on—and he burst out laughing. “Oh yeah, I can see that.” He strode forward and the other man turned his gun on Takao. “Do you really want to do that?” Takao asked with a dangerous glint in his eyes, his lips quirking up into a smirk as he nodded pointedly at the gun. “You came to Shin-chan for drugs ‘cause you didn’t wanna try that shit with me, right?”

The man scowled at him. “Fuck you and your fuckin’ ego. You're nothin’ special, asshole! If I shoot you, you'll bleed and die just like anybody else,” he snapped, sounding like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince them, his uncertainty reflected in the slight twitch of his finger towards the trigger.

“You sure?” Takao continued to confidently walk forward, hands in his pockets. “I’ve been shot before. Pretty sure you’ve seen it.”

“Y-yeah, well, you don’t wanna mess with me. I’m—I’m a lot more dangerous than most people, ya know,” he said as threateningly as he could manage.

Takao arched an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “Are you talking about having powers?”

“Yeah, so don’t fuck with me. I’ll fuck you up!”

“Wear a condom if you do. I’m pretty sure you’ve got something I don’t wanna catch,” Takao retorted, nose wrinkled slightly in disgust. “Unless you’re tryna tell me that weird glowing in the dark thing I’ve heard you do is the ‘dangerous’ power you’re gonna use to ‘fuck me up’? ‘Cause it kinda sounds more like the symptom of something you caught from the cheap company you keep.” He moved even closer. “I think, you’re scared of me,” he leaned in to whisper, extracting a surgical knife—which he’d picked up upon entering—from his pocket and digging it into the man’s arm.

The man managed to suppress his scream of pain at first, but he did drop his gun when Takao began to twist the knife, swearing violently through gritted teeth.

“You’re gonna leave now, right? Or should I...” Takao dragged the knife downwards, a sweet smile on his face.  

 _That_ tore a scream out of him. “Alright, _alright_ , I'm sorry! _Fuck,_ just let me go!” he shouted, grabbing Takao’s wrist and pulling it away from himself before edging towards the door without his gun, not taking his eyes off of Takao.

Takao grinned, waving cheerfully with the hand still holding the bloody knife. “Have a safe trip home!” he called, only turning back to Midorima after the guy was gone from sight.

Midorima took a moment to process what had just happened, and then frowned at Takao. “Why were you laughing at me?”

“Try to shoot me. I promise I won't get hurt,” Takao answered, holding his arms up to show he didn't have any extra weapons.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Midorima said with a scoff, instead aiming the gun at the ground before pulling the trigger… only to hear a small _click_. “...Ah.”

Takao shook his head. “Didn't I tell you to only have a gun if you were ready to use it? Part of that is knowing _how_ to use a gun.”

“I simply forgot about the safety. I will not make the same mistake a second time,” Midorima said, a little defensive. Then, as he thought about the fact that he would almost certainly be injured or dead were it not for Takao’s interference, he reluctantly added, “Though I am grateful for your assistance in this instance.”

“No problem. Happens to me all the time. Seriously though, Shin-chan, _do_ you know how to use a gun? I can teach you.”

Midorima hesitated for a moment before admitting, “...I could, perhaps, use a bit of advice on the matter.”

“Alright,” Takao agreed easily. “When do you want gun training? I'll make room in my schedule for it.”

* * *

They ended up meeting just a couple of days later, a few miles outside of the city, where they wouldn't bother anyone. Midorima got there as Takao was setting up targets. “Hey, Shin-chan!” he called cheerfully.

Midorima nodded in greeting, took his gun out of its holster, and held it loosely by his side while he waited for Takao to finish what he was doing.

“Alright, so first make sure the safety is off,” Takao teased, moving to stand by Midorima when he was done.

“It is,” Midorima grumbled, reluctantly double-checking.

“Alright, second: until I told you to make sure it was off, it shouldn't’ve been. You could’ve hurt yourself, or me, since I was standing around a bunch of targets. You only take that off when you're ready to shoot.”

Midorima nodded again. “Am I ready to shoot then?”

“We’re going to see how your aim is to figure out where to improve, so yes.” Takao pointed at a target. “Cock it and shoot. There’ll be a kick.”

Midorima turned to give him an odd look. “Excuse me? Do _what?_ ” he asked, refusing to repeat the phrase.

“Cock it and shoot,” Takao repeated. Then a look of realization passed across his face. “You don't know what that means. Shin-chan, why do you even _own_ a gun?” He sighed and took it from him, demonstrating before taking aim and shooting the target right through the center. “Your turn.” He turned the safety back on before passing it to Midorima.

“What a crass phrase,” Midorima muttered under his breath as he took the gun, turning the safety off, then copying Takao’s motions to prepare to fire. Feeling a bit out of his comfort zone, he concentrated entirely on aiming, which he was more confident about—closing his bad eye to focus his enhanced vision, relaxing the muscles in his arms so they didn’t shake, breathing carefully to slow his heart rate for accuracy—and pointed the gun directly at the spot Takao had just hit before pulling the trigger. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten to take the recoil into account, and the gun ended up hitting him in the face before he could ascertain whether or not he’d hit his mark accurately.

Takao burst out laughing so hard he had to sit down. “I-I think that's gonna bruise, Shin-chan,” he managed between laughs.

“Yes, I’m sure it will,” Midorima said through gritted teeth, determinedly _not_ looking at Takao, and trying, rather unsuccessfully, not to flush in embarrassment.

“I don't think I've ever seen someone hit themselves in the face with a gun before. I've seen them hit _other_ people, and I've been hit, but I've never seen someone do it to themselves.” He was still laughing.

Midorima rolled his eyes and, instead of responding, walked over to the target to see whether he’d actually hit it, because there was still only one hole in it—which meant he’d either hit it perfectly, or had been wildly off mark. Upon closer examination, he did find two bullets embedded in the tree behind the target, and nodded in satisfaction, his embarrassment abating a little as he walked back over to Takao to await further instruction.

Takao finally picked himself up to look at the target and let out a low whistle. “There's some natural talent after all. We've gotta work on the way you hold it and managing the kick though. And then I've gotta show you how to take someone's gun, and how to keep a hold of your own.”

Midorima nodded and turned the safety back on before holding the gun out to Takao. “Show me how I should hold it.”

“Like this...”

A few hours later, the sky began to darken, so Takao ended the lesson. “Good job today, Shin-chan. Your hand-to-hand combat is shit, but I don’t feel like you’ll shoot yourself in a fight anymore.”

Midorima felt his eye twitch in mild irritation. “...Thank you,” he replied tersely, choosing to ignore the insult in favor of the compliment as he turned and began to head back in the direction of the nearest bus station to get them back to their neighborhood.

* * *

Midorima woke up one night to his cell phone ringing. He squinted blurrily at the clock with his good eye to see that it was just past two in the morning, so when he answered the phone, it was with a very irritated, “What?”

_“Shin-chan, do you make house calls? I think I’m dying.”_

It took a moment to process that, but once he did, Midorima bolted upright, suddenly wide awake. “Where are you? What happened?”

_“I got shot… I think I’m at. Fuck, who am I staying with right now? I think I’m at Kotarou’s place.”_

It took Midorima a moment to put a face to the name, and a bit more to remember where he lived. “...Okay. I will be there in approximately eight minutes,” he said as he got up, put on a shirt, and went downstairs to his office to begin collecting supplies. “Where were you shot? Are you in a safe situation right now? Is there anyone armed and after you at the moment?”

Takao blinked a few times, trying to work out answers to all of the questions through the drugs. _“I am... safe. Probably. The dude who shot me left after I took his gun.”_

Midorima finally recognized the… _influenced_ tone of Takao’s voice, and sighed. “What are you on and how much of it did you take?”

_“...Ummmm. Coke. I think I, yeah, I took a little of that. And drank... vodka? No, no, it was tequila. Yeah.”_

“Are you still drinking or taking drugs? If you are, stop now,” Midorima said sternly, zipping up a bag full of medical supplies and heading out the door at a jog.

_“Ye of little faith. I think I’m dying and you think that I’m still doing that.”_

“Had to check,” Midorima said, voice clipped and slightly out of breath as he ran. “Where is the wound? Are you applying pressure?”

 _“...I am not,”_ Takao declared after a moment to get reoriented with where his body parts were.

Midorima would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t running so quickly. “Well, _do that._ It will help you not die _,”_ he replied, trying not to snap, and maybe picking up his pace a bit. If he didn’t even have the awareness to have put pressure on the wound, who knew how much he could have already bled out before calling Midorima? He had to get there quickly.

 _“I don’t want to die,”_ Takao said solemnly, but made no move to apply pressure to anything.

Midorima paused for a moment before answering, choosing his words carefully. “I’m going to do my best to prevent that from happening,” he said.

_“Shin-chan, are you almost here?”_

“Two blocks,” he answered briefly after surveying his surroundings and increasing his speed even more. “So, yes.” And the rest of the phone call was mostly silence, besides Midorima asking where in the apartment Takao was, but at that point it was easier to just pinpoint the direction from which Takao’s voice was sounding.

He walked into the room, saw a _lot_ of blood, and immediately got to work, cutting his shirt off to save time. And then, upon studying the injuries, took a deep breath and relaxed considerably—the gunshot wound was in Takao’s arm, and the bleeding from his chest was a cut. He was still bleeding profusely, of course, and Midorima still had to work quickly to stop that, but… “You’re not dying,” he said to Takao firmly. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Oh thank god. That would be the second time this week,” Takao told him. “Oh, hey, my shirt’s gone.”

Midorima blinked, paused what he was doing, and looked up at him in horror. It had been less than two weeks since he’d last seen Takao. “The _second_ —I—what? What have you been doing?”

“Nothing good, I’m sure, but I can’t quite think of it right now. I patched it up myself though, so it’s okay... Oh, right! Got my head slammed into a brick wall. God did that hurt. There was _so much_ blood, Shin-chan. It was kinda terrifying.”

Midorima tried not to glare, but it was difficult to do when every time he saw Takao, he seemed to have at least one new medical horror story to tell him. “...Yes, head wounds do tend to bleed quite a lot,” he said tersely, looking down, and getting back to work, giving him some temporary bandages that would hold until they could get back to his office

“Yeah, I know, but like, a _lot_ a lot. I think I permanently stained that wall, Shin-chan. Stained it with my _blood_.”

Something about the utter _inanity_ of his words, in juxtaposition with the severity of the situation, seemed to hit a nerve a little more suddenly than Midorima had anticipated. That, combined with the ungodly time of night and the pounding headache right behind his eyes, led him to snap, “Well, maybe you wouldn’t have to _worry_ about that if you hadn’t made whatever moronic sequence of decisions you did that led to you becoming a homeless drug addict.”

Takao blinked a few times before something that resembled anger appeared in his eyes. “Excuse me?”

Midorima looked back up to meet his gaze and spoke slower. “You wouldn’t have to worry about _almost dying twice a week_ if you hadn’t made so many stupid choices and let yourself sink to this level.”

“What _exactly_ do you think that you know about my life, Midorima?” Takao made himself sit up despite the pain that shot through him and the lightheaded feeling that came with moving. “Really, honestly, what can you say you know about me?”

He didn’t let Midorima answer him. He kept going. “You know, I used to have a little sister. She couldn’t pronounce Kazunari, so she just called me Nari. I watched her get shot. Right in front of me. And my parents. I was ten years old. The guy who shot them told me he wasn’t killing me ‘cause I had to live with that. Since I was so young, I had to be put into foster care. Too young to live alone, but too old for people to actually want to take someone in, y’know.”

Midorima opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something—he was sure Takao would not be talking about any of this if he’d been sober—but just closed it again, unable to come up with something to say, or the will to interrupt when Takao had such a fiery look in his eyes.

“Well, turns out my foster dad liked to drink. And he wasn’t pleasant when he was drunk. Kinda violent actually.” Takao winced, like he was still expecting a punch to come. “I tried to call the police when I was thirteen, and that was the first ‘Oh yeah, Shin-chan, I almost died’ story that I could tell you,” he said with bitter sarcasm. “The police didn’t believe me, or just didn't care, and he didn’t get in trouble, but I was beaten within an inch of my life to make sure that I didn’t do it again.”

His tone changed to one of lofty indifference, and he continued casually, as if he wasn’t talking about the worst time of his life. “That started to become a frequent thing, so at thirteen I started taking drugs to make the beatings hurt less. It worked, but I was slipping in school because of it, and that was the one place I could go to get away from him. Eventually I stopped going, because people kept asking about the bruises. When I was fifteen, he pulled a gun on me. He’d done it a few times, but this time was different. The safety was off—you know all about that—and the thing was loaded. So, when he pointed it at me, I took it from him and I shot him. I killed him. He was dead and I could still hear him telling me to do the same to myself to make up for doing it to him.”

Takao’s eyes remained cold, his icy gaze pinning Midorima to the spot, even as his voice started to get more heated as he continued.

“I didn’t. I got off on self defense because the neighbors were apparently willing to step forward and report about all the bruises and beatings when someone died, not when a kid was getting the crap kicked out of him almost every night. But then there was talk of putting me in another home. No one was going to take the kid who shot his last foster parent. No one who wasn’t like him at least. So, I ran. I sold the drugs I had to be able to feed myself and get a blanket because it’s cold sleeping on the streets in the winter here. Then I got to find out what withdrawal was like, and I got offered an opportunity to keep selling drugs to make enough money to survive, and got to take some too so that the pain from the withdrawal and the hunger and the cold would all just _stop._ But you’re right, Shin-chan. I did make some choices that led to this. I chose to live, and this was the way I could do it. Not all of us can have some noble cause for being here, like trying to become a doctor to help people. Some of us are just here because we don’t have anywhere else,” Takao finished bitterly.

Midorima just stared at him, all this new information spinning in his head and making him realize that no, he didn't know _anything_ about Takao, didn't know anything about any of the people he'd met since he'd started this whole underground clinic thing. It made him see everything very differently, made him reconsider his _own_ life even, and he felt so many thoughts rushing at once that it felt more like his mind was going blank.

And then he remembered he was still treating Takao’s wounds, and that took precedence over his emotions. “...I see,” he responded shortly, voice subdued, before continuing to work on bandaging the injuries enough to slow the bleeding. It took only a couple of minutes, and then Midorima packed up the medical supplies and considered Takao’s current state—he was only injured on his upper body, his legs were fine, but he was also quite drunk, as evidenced by his long rant. So, after picking up his bag, Midorima hooked one arm under Takao’s knees and the other behind his shoulders. “Tell me if this begins to hurt you,” he said before slowly standing up with Takao in his arms and heading out of the apartment.

“I feel like your bride when you hold me like this, and it’s weird, because I don’t think I should be covered in blood for that, but I also don’t think I can walk right now,” Takao commented. He looked down, and the ground seemed so far away. He really hoped Midorima didn’t drop him as he continued to stare with mild fascination.

Midorima rolled his eyes and muttered some sort of vague, noncommittal answer, but also felt a strange relief at the stupid comment. The idiocy was a comforting return to normality, though it also made the dark bitterness of his tone earlier stand out in sharp contrast in Midorima’s memory. He watched Takao carefully, monitoring his condition as best he could without machines, silent for a long minute. And then he shifted his grip on Takao ever so slightly, and breathed deeply in and out once. “I… I apologize,” he murmured, gaze fixed in the direction they were walking.

“For what? Carrying me, or pissing me off earlier?” Takao asked, forcing himself to look up from the ground, even though his head felt heavy.

“For presuming to understand what I knew nothing about,” Midorima replied matter-of-factly, and then, feeling Takao’s gaze on him, looked down to meet it.

“Oh. Well, you had no reason to know. I don’t really talk about it. I’m not sure why I did talk about it to you.”

Midorima arched an eyebrow slightly. “The tequila had something to do with it, I’m certain.”

“Probably.” Takao agreed, resting his head on Midorima’s chest because he was getting dizzy, but keeping the eye contact.

Between the sight of Takao looking steadily up at him, his head leaning against his chest, and all the new things he’d just learned about Takao’s life, Midorima was feeling a good amount of things he couldn’t quite identify. He continued gazing down at Takao with a slight frown of concentration as he tried to make sense of his emotions, but he’d never been very good at that. And then, he realized that gazing turned to staring, and staring turned to studying, and it was going on for far too long.

“Shin-chan, you’re staring at me,” Takao said softly, reaching up to brush his fingers across Midorima’s cheek.

A blush crept up into Midorima’s face. “I am not,” he insisted, looking forward again, brow slightly furrowed in bemusement—the light touch of Takao’s cool fingers made his face heat up even further, and he had no idea _why_ , and it was yet another thing to add to the list of things he didn’t understand about Takao.

“Okay.” Takao let his hand fall back down, closing his eyes. “Shin-chan, I’m tired.”

“We’re almost there. Stay awake for now,” Midorima said, glancing back down at him in mild concern and lengthening his strides slightly.

“But I don't want to stay awake. Do I _have_ to, Shin-chan?” Takao complained.

“Just until I get you back to the office,” Midorima insisted. “It’ll be easier to assess your condition while you’re awake.”

“Fine.” His voice held a whining note, but he opened his eyes.

It only took a few more minutes to get Takao onto one of the beds in the office. He fell asleep sometime between Midorima extracting the bullet from his arm and placing the clips on his final bandages. With a sigh of relief, Midorima grabbed Takao’s file (easily the thickest of all the ones he had, even among his regular patients) and a clipboard and started filling out a sheet about today’s injuries and treatment. It was a simple, rote activity for him by now, so he finished it quickly, and then several minutes later found that he had defaulted to staring at Takao again, instead of getting up and doing something productive. _Why?_ he questioned himself irritably, which prompted him to flip to the back of Takao’s file and pull out the last page, placing it on his clipboard and absently tapping his pen on it with a frown.

One of the perks of not being a professional doctor was that… well, he didn’t have to be professional. He saw a very interesting variety of clientele in his clinic, and he often found himself jotting snarky notes in his patients’ files so as to avoid saying them out loud and potentially pissing off the wrong person. He’d probably destroy or hide all these documents after he got his medical degree anyway, so it wasn’t like anyone else would ever see them, but he was still embarrassed to have such a juvenile habit. Especially since, in Takao’s file, the notes had crowded the margins to such an extent that he’d actually started an entire document devoted to observations and questions about Takao, who was possibly the oddest person he’d ever met, even including all of the interesting patients he’d had in the last few months.

He began writing at the bottom of the list, but it wasn’t long before he heard the faint sound of someone walking near the door—which wasn’t odd in itself, since, with his abilities, Midorima was generally able to hear most passerby, even from inside—but this person turned to approach the door, and Midorima heard them proceed to open it and walk into the entryway.

“Hello?” Midorima called out, not as surprised by the hour of this person’s visit as he might have been a few months ago. After a moment, a tall, tan-skinned young man appeared in the office doorway.

“Do you know where I can find some guy called Takao Kazu—Kazu something? I’ve been told he hangs out here a lot,” he said without bothering to greet Midorima back.

“Takao Kazunari,” Midorima corrected while appraising the visitor with mild suspicion. In part, he looked relatively harmless, his hair sticking up everywhere as though he’d just rolled out of bed, looking vaguely nervous and lost, but trying to hide it, and he couldn’t be much older than Midorima himself. He might have even been younger. But there was also something about him that seemed threatening—not enough that Midorima felt the need to reach for his gun, but enough to make him suspicious of his intentions towards Takao. “What do you need him for?”

“So you do know him!” the guy said, relaxing a bit as he realized he had the right place. “I’m looking to buy from him.”

Midorima narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

“I’m, uh, I’m... Jinguji Ren!” he stuttered out.

Midorima didn’t even dignify that awful lie with a response, standing up and looking down at him with a steady, still slightly suspicious gaze, glad that he was a few inches taller than the other.

The visitor took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets, one of them clearly gripping something.

Midorima’s eyes followed his hands and he arched an eyebrow—there was generally only one reason why people stuck their hands in their pockets when they felt threatened. “Did you really bring a gun to a drug deal?”

“What about it?” he snapped. “Can you tell me where to find him or not?”

“Not unless you take your hand off that gun and stop lying,” Midorima said, his voice calm but steely.

The guy eyed him uncertainly, but pulled his hands out of his pockets. “I don’t want to give my name out to criminals.”

A hint of a smirk pulled at Midorima’s lips as he remembered Takao’s response to that when they’d first met. “It’s rather rude of you to call me a criminal. I’m just a pre-med student,” he said, and then added, “...who happens to treat criminals.”

“Sounds illegal to me,” he replied with a scoff. “If you’re not going to tell me where he is, I’ll just find another dealer.”

Midorima looked at him for another moment before realizing, with a sigh, that Takao probably wouldn’t appreciate losing a potential customer. “Well, either way, you’re going to have to wait. This is him,” he said, nodding pointedly towards the bed on which Takao lay, still unconscious.

 _“This guy_ is the drug dealer that people around here keep talking about? Seriously?” he asked incredulously. “And why does he look half-dead?”

“Because he got _shot_ , that’s why,” Midorima snapped defensively, but before he could say anything else, he noticed the display of Takao’s vitals shift slightly, and heard him stir.

“Shin-chan, when did I get here?” Takao mumbled as he started to wake up and opened his eyes enough to see where he was.

“Less than two hours ago,” Midorima answered him, approaching and standing by the side of the bed. “I brought you here.”

“Oh... well, thanks. Who’s this guy? I didn’t know you kept this place open so late.” Takao winced as he sat up, but made himself do so anyway.

“He says he wants to buy from you,” Midorima said, and cast the visitor a glance as he added, “He has not yet provided his real name.”

“Eh, lots of people don’t. So, Ganguro, what’s your poison?” Takao asked, raising an eyebrow.

The guy scowled at the nickname, but answered him. “I need some morphine,” he said shortly, gaze shifting between Takao, Midorima, and the floor.

“Huh. Seriously? You look more like the kid who gets pot to spite whoever’s taking care of you. Alright. I can get it to you in... two days? Yeah, two days.” He pulled out his phone and made a note so that he wouldn’t forget, since he was sure he was still being affected by the drugs and alcohol from earlier. “How much do you want and how do you take it?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, like, a week’s worth?”

Takao and Midorima exchanged a look before Takao let out a sigh. He dealt with bratty kids wanting drugs and not knowing what they were doing all the time. “Alright. How much do you plan to go through in a week?” he asked.

“Uh… enough to… um. Enough?” the guy said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Takao sighed again, and, with a pained expression, got off the bed and walked over to one of the cabinets Midorima kept medicine in, rifling through it until he found a morphine pill. “This is thirty milligrams,” he said, holding it up to the visitor after walking back over. “How many of these do you want?”

“Um… te—twenty? Yeah, twenty.”

“Can you afford twenty?” Takao asked, leaning against the bed and giving him a price.

He winced a little bit but nodded. “Yeah. You, uh... want any now or do I just pay you after?”

“Pay me when you see the drugs. Where are we meeting? Not here.” Takao held out the pill to Midorima to put back, too tired to try to walk across the room again.

“Um… well…” The guy paused for a minute in thought, and then managed to come up with, “Oh, I know! There's this strip club like, three blocks that way.” He jerked his thumb to indicate the direction. “Does that work?”

Takao burst out laughing but nodded. “Yeah, alright. And Ganguro, if you bring that gun to the strip club, I won't even have to kick your ass. Someone else will do it for me.”

“Yeah, whatever, I get it,” he snapped with a scowl. He began to leave, but just before he reached the door, he turned to add begrudgingly, “And it's Aomine, not Ganguro. Asshole.” And then he walked out.

“Kids are the worst. They never know what they're doing,” Takao complained as he got back into the bed.

Midorima arched an eyebrow at him. “I doubt he was much younger than either of us.”

“No, probably not, but still annoying that he doesn't know what he's doing.” He rolled his eyes. “He's probably gonna overdose since he doesn't know anything about the drugs he's taking.”

Midorima frowned. As a pre-med student, he felt the need to object on moral grounds. “Don't you think you should perhaps warn him then?”

Takao sighed. “No point. I already rigged the price to try and get him not to start. If he's willing to spend that kind of cash, he won't listen to what I have to say. I used to warn people, but they don't usually want advice from the dealer, so I don't bother anymore.”

Midorima was still frowning, but he looked at Takao contemplatively for a moment, thinking about what he'd just learned about Takao’s past, and then nodded slowly. “I suppose that makes sense. You have been in this business for a bit longer than I have, after all.”

“Eh, not that long. Coming up on three years.” Takao lay back down in the bed, and after a moment of consideration, he added, “I’m hanging out here too much though. That kid came looking here for me.”

“Well, perhaps if you were a little more cautious and less flippantly rude to the world at large, you wouldn’t have to be here quite so much.”

“When have you ever seen me be rude to the world at large? I don’t even know enough people to come close being rude to Japan at large, much less the world,” he replied.

Midorima stared for a moment, not really sure where to begin with a response to that, instead choosing to sit back down with his clipboard and Takao’s file. “Stop talking and go back to sleep. You’re drunk.”

“Hell yeah I am.” He did close his eyes though, to try to make Midorima feel better. “Hey, when people come around here looking for me, tell about half of them you’ve got no idea who I am. You shouldn’t be bothered by my customers just because I’m here a lot. Tell the other half where to find me if you know, if not, tell them I’m probably somewhere nearby and wish them luck, I guess.”

Midorima wasn't entirely convinced this was a good plan, but decided to keep his objections to himself until Takao was sober. “...Alright,” he said, scribbling down a few more notes, and saying nothing else in the hopes that Takao would rest.

“Hey, Shin-chan? I feel like I told you stuff I shouldn't have, no clue what, but whatever it was, let's pretend I didn't, okay?” he mumbled.

Part of Midorima was more than prepared to pretend Takao’s incident of oversharing had never happened, but part of him also felt like he wouldn't ever really forget—he'd already added nearly half a page of notes about it. So, instead of listening to his conflicted thoughts, he looked at Takao’s mildly troubled face and simply repeated, “Alright.”

* * *

 

Aomine had found the perfect seat in a secluded corner of the club, where he had a great view of strippers of all genders, as well as a decent line of sight to the door… not that he glanced that way often, transfixed as he was by the numerous attractive people walking around and dancing half-naked.

“Yo, Ganguro!” Takao called as he walked in and spotted Aomine, but got no response. He shrugged and ambled over to observe a blond stripper with piercing gold eyes and eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man. If Aomine wanted his shit he would have to approach Takao for it. Takao was a man with needs too, after all.

It took Aomine several minutes but eventually he noticed Takao sitting nearby getting very friendly with a hot blond stripper… partly with the lap dance that appeared to be in progress, and partly with the casual conversation they also seemed to be carrying on at the same time. Aomine watched, increasingly confused by the odd dynamic between the two, and eventually became impatient, as it began to seem as though they might never stop talking. So, after about ten minutes, he approached and asked irritably, “Hey, you done yet?”

“Huh? Oh, Ganguro, good to see you finally noticed that I showed up. Ryo-chan, I’ve gotta go. I’ll stop by later to finish this talk though,” Takao said, winking at the stripper before getting up and walking over to a corner with Aomine. “Cash?”

Aomine nodded. “Got it,” he said and handed an envelope to him, trying to keep his face neutral, but he was also shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously.

Takao counted the money before he put it in his pocket and handed over a plastic bag with the pills. Midorima’s words flitted through his head, so over his shoulder as he turned to walk away, he said, “Try not to take too many of those. You look a bit young to be dying from a morphine overdose.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aomine mumbled as he stuffed the drugs in his pockets and went back to where he’d been sitting to appreciate the strippers for just a bit longer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally meant to post this chapter a few days ago on Midorima's birthday, but I did not. My laptop's entire cooling system shut the hell down and I had to get that fixed, so here it is a few days late. Happy late birthday, Shin-chan! -Kate

Midorima was quite certain he’d locked the door before he’d gone to sleep, but when he woke up and headed back downstairs to his office, he found Takao lounging on one of the beds and pouring over one of his thick medical textbooks. He realized he’d become far too used to Takao’s mildly invasive presence in his life when it wasn’t the fact that he was  _ there _ that surprised him—it was the fact that he was reading one of Midorima's text books, and looking almost studious as he did so. “Do you even understand anything in there?” he said in lieu of greeting.

Takao glanced up from the book briefly. “I google what I don’t know, but for the most part, yeah. Man, I have been doing so much wrong, medically speaking.”

“Well,  I  could have told you that,” Midorima said, rolling his eyes. “In fact, I  _ have  _ told you that. On several occasions.”

"Yeah, but you're not a book." Takao pulled a plastic bag with pills out of his pocket and tossed it to Midorima. “On the house. Figured you’d want some while I was getting them for Ganguro.”

Midorima deftly caught the bag in one hand and nodded his thanks to Takao, making a quick detour to go put the morphine away, before sitting down at his desk and absently checking his schedule for the day. After a few seconds of silence, he heard a page turn, and he looked up to see that Takao had returned to reading. Feeling doubtful for a moment, Midorima covered his bad eye and used the good one to focus in closer, to possibly find some hint of him faking it—but no, with his super vision he could see for sure that Takao’s eyes were flitting across the page in perfect reading form. He opened his mouth to make some vague comment about Takao’s unexpected intelligence, but decided against it, upon considering that this would not be the first time this week that his pre-assumed notions of Takao had been challenged, and that he should probably start learning something from that.

“Hey, Shin-chan, do you mind if I bookmark this to save my place? I’ve gotta get going to meet up with a friend of mine. She’s gonna be pissed if I’m late,” Takao said about an hour later, offering Midorima a wide grin.

“As long as by ‘bookmark’ you mean actually using something to mark your place,” Midorima said, staring sternly at him. “Dog-earing will  _ not  _ be tolerated.”

Takao rolled his eyes, but hopped off of the bed. “Do you have something I can mark it with then?”

Midorima tore a blank page out of the memo pad in his pocket and silently passed it to him.

“Thank you.” Takao slipped the piece of paper between the pages and handed the book back to Midorima. “Maybe if I finish reading that thing, you’ll have less complaints about me doing things like removing a bullet with a hanger wire. I did that one time, and good God did that hurt.”

Midorima frowned, and was pretty sure one of his eyes was twitching. “...I'm beginning to think that you only tell me these things because you get some sort of strange enjoyment from my displeasure.”

“That might be true, but I don’t make any of them up.” He lifted up his shirt and pointed to a scar. “I’ve got proof for every story I tell you about my medical history.”

“That's the worst part,” Midorima grumbled, glancing at the scar—but for some reason, just a few seconds later, he found that his focus had drifted from the scar, and he was just sort of staring at Takao’s bare torso. Upon realizing this, he blinked in confusion, gaze flickering up to meet Takao’s eyes before he turned to nervously shuffle the papers on his desk.

“Were you checking me out, Shin-chan?” Takao teased, leaning against Midorima’s desk.

“Of course not; don't be absurd.” He steadfastly ignored the way Takao’s proximity made his heart speed up just a little, and didn't look at him in the hopes he could avoid blushing. “And pull your shirt back down already.”

Takao laughed, but dropped his shirt. “Whatever you say, Shin-chan.” He pushed off of the desk and started for the door, winking over his shoulder. 

Regretfully, Midorima glanced up just in time to catch the wink, and immediately fixed his gaze back down on his desk. “Good _ bye _ , Takao,” he said firmly, as he attempted to glare a hole through a stack of papers on his desk. He waited until he heard the door shut behind Takao, and then took out the list at the back of Takao's file and began writing, letting all of his confusion out through five straight minutes of frantic scribbling, then put it aside and did some actual paperwork for awhile. And  then  he was busied by a walk-in emergency patient, and several appointments he’d scheduled for that day, so the next moment he got to himself wasn’t until nearly dinner time, and by that time, when he pulled out the list again, he could barely read his own handwriting, and what he could read made very little sense.

Takao’s earlier words about how he had just googled what he didn’t understand came to mind, and Midorima decided there was no harm in trying to google some of the things he didn’t understand about Takao.

Google informed him that he was in love with Takao. Which was ridiculous. Absolutely preposterous. He could agree, very reluctantly, with google’s conclusion that he was also attracted to Takao. Although, that had come about very recently. He happened upon the term “demisexual” when trying to find out why he hadn’t immediately found Takao attractive. Aesthetically pleasing to the eyes, sure, but he hadn't felt the need to stare at his bare torso when they first met. But  _ love?  _ His face got red just thinking about it, and he tried to convince himself that he must be coming down with a fever.

Midorima decided that he didn’t like Google.

* * *

 

It was three in the morning a few weeks later and pouring rain, which really wasn’t the ideal time to be walking anywhere, but that’s still when Takao showed up at Midorima’s office, walking in like he usually did (at this point Midorima had just given him a key so that he wouldn’t break the lock), and calling out, “Shin-chan?”

Midorima had already been stirring awake at the sounds of someone entering the office downstairs, but before he could get too concerned over a possible break-in, he heard Takao’s voice and relaxed. He called out a greeting and got out of bed to go meet him, when he noticed the sound of a rainstorm outside, and grabbed a towel and some dry clothes before heading downstairs. When he entered the office, he threw the towel at Takao’s face and set the clothes down on a nearby bed. “Are you injured, or are you just saying hello?” Midorima asked, and he couldn’t say that he’d be surprised by either answer at this point.

“There are pieces of glass embedded in my body, so I think it’s safe to say both. Hello,” Takao replied, catching the towel and wiping the water off of his face.

“...Hello,” Midorima replied with a sigh, moving the clothes to the foot of the bed and going to gather the necessary medical supplies. “Have a seat and show me where you think you got hit. And take off those wet clothes so you don’t catch a cold on top of that.”

“I know exactly where I got hit; I’m not high tonight. I was sleeping though, so I feel like I was at an unfair disadvantage,” Takao said, carefully slipping his shirt off, wincing as it moved some of the glass. “My left arm and a bit of my stomach and back.”

Midorima rolled his tray of supplies over and carefully lifted Takao’s left arm to inspect it and the surrounding area of his abdomen. “I see,” he said with a considering hum. “Luckily, it doesn’t seem as though any of these cuts will require stitches, except perhaps this one.” He pointed at an especially large shard embedded in Takao’s upper arm. “So I’ll attend to that one last,” he said, more to himself than anything at this point, as he grabbed a pair of tweezers and began to remove all the bits of glass from Takao’s skin.

“Hey, Shin-chan, do you think I could stay here tonight? My girlfriend kinda kicked me out.” He gestured to the glass shards.

Midorima glanced up at him, caught off-guard and a little concerned. “Of course,” he answered absently as he pictured some girl getting angry enough at Takao to throw a large glass object at him. “That… seems rather excessively violent of her,” he observed, frowning as he continued to add to the growing pile of bloody glass on his tray.

“I know, right? Probably had something to do with the meth,” Takao agreed.

That didn’t particularly relieve the concern in Midorima’s expression. “Meth you were dealing, or meth in which you were partaking?”

“I told you: I'm sober tonight. I was sleeping when she started freaking out,” Takao replied, wincing as one of the larger shards was removed. “Told me to get out, and apparently I wasn't putting on clothes fast enough, so she threw a vase at me. And now here I am.”

His imagination immediately supplied him with the image of Takao sleeping naked with some girl, which was dangerously close to imagining Takao having sex with said girl, which made Midorima feel a lot of things he really didn’t want to try to deal with while he was trying to patch up Takao’s injuries. So, instead, he went back to picturing the girl throwing the vase at him, and frowned. Yes, displeasure was a much more familiar emotion. He could deal with this. “You should try to look for girls with less violent tendencies,” he suggested mildly.

“It’s not like that’s what I go looking for,” Takao argued. “She seemed fine when I started dating her. But it’s whatever. I’m not planning on staying with her after that, so hopefully no more vase throwing in my future.” He flashed a grin at Midorima.

Midorima arched an eyebrow at him briefly as he deposited one more splinter of glass on the tray and began to clean and bandage the smaller cuts. “Unless it turns out you just happen to attract the secretly violent types.”

“That would be unfortunate. I’d have to swear off dating if that was the case. Fortunately for me, I’ve dated plenty of not-crazy people.”

For some godforsaken reason, the first thing that Midorima’s mind suggested he say was  _ maybe you should swear off dating anyway, _ and he told himself that it was because he was concerned about the possibility of Takao’s future girlfriends also being violent, because considering any other motive behind it gave him an uncomfortable fluttering sensation in his stomach. So, instead of replying, he gave a noncommittal hum and allowed the conversation to lapse into silence for a few minutes. He didn’t allow himself to speak—for fear of saying something strange—until he was done bandaging the smaller cuts. “I’m going to take this out now,” he informed Takao, indicating to the largest shard that was lodged deep in his arm.

“Kinda wish I wasn’t sober for that,” Takao replied, grinning at Midorima.

Midorima spared a glance for his smile, but then looked back down, putting a steadying hand on Takao’s shoulder, as he carefully but quickly pulled the shard free from his skin. He gave the cut an appraising look as it began to bleed in earnest. “Stitches, to be safe,” he said with a nod, mostly to himself, as he cleaned the cut.

“You know, I feel like I should say sorry for bursting in at three am. Since you’re about to repeatedly stab me with a needle and all, wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings at the moment.”

“I’m, unfortunately, quite used to it at this point,” Midorima said, starting the first stitch as carefully as ever. “And if I  _ was  _ angry with you, there are many more painful ways I could have removed the several dozen shards of glass from your body,” he informed Takao ambivalently, only to add after a moment, “Not that I would, as I am, of course, a professional.”

“Right, that’s why I’m getting stitches without any of the numbing medication that I so helpfully provide for you,” Takao said, but laughed to show he wasn’t actually upset about it.

“Precisely,” Midorima replied absently as he focused and gained momentum, sewing up the wound quickly with ten small stitches. “There,” he said, taping some gauze over it. “Any more objections?”

“No, I don’t think there’s much to object to, since you’re already done,” he answered, hopping off the bed to change into the clothes Midorima had brought him.

Midorima busied himself with cleaning his tools and disposing of the glass so he didn’t do something stupid like stare at Takao while he was changing. As he finished putting everything away, drowsiness began to take over and remind him that it was, in fact, well past three in the morning now. “You may sleep on any of these beds,” he told Takao as he headed for the stairs. After a brief moment of consideration, he added, “There is also a couch upstairs that may be marginally more comfortable. Whichever you prefer.”

“Couch it is.” Takao grinned and followed after him up the stairs. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Considering that whenever I  _ tell  _ you to stay here for your own well-being, you usually refuse, I’d say this is something of a relief,” Midorima said dryly.

Takao laughed at that. “Well, you’ve got me for the night, so you can feel accomplished for that.”

Hidden in the darkness of the stairwell, Midorima smiled briefly, but it had faded by the time they reached the couch in his living room. He’d intended to simply leave Takao there and go back to bed, but a thought nagged at him until he turned to face Takao and gave it a voice. “You… you know you are welcome to stay as often as needed, and not only when you’re injured,” he offered hesitantly, then cleared his throat and added in a more matter-of-fact tone, “The assistance I am willing to provide you is not limited to medical.”

Takao looked caught off-guard by that, but a smile slowly spread across his face. “Thank you, Shin-chan,” he said sincerely.

Watching Takao’s face was beginning to make Midorima’s heart beat faster, which was not conducive to him going to bed anytime soon, so he just gave a nod before averting his gaze. A few moments of silence passed and, with nothing else to say, he met Takao’s eyes briefly once more and murmured, “Goodnight, Takao.” And then he retreated into his room, hopefully to recover his composure and get some sleep.

* * *

When Midorima drifted into awareness, he found himself in a dark room with his wrist and ankles bound, and his mouth taped shut. He managed to push himself into a sitting position, but even upon closing his bad eye, he couldn’t discern any significant details about the room. So, instead, he tried to remember how he got there, and managed to conjure up the memory of being awoken suddenly by someone entering his room through the window, then feeling something pressed up against his mouth—chloroform, most likely, he realized—and then nothing.

“He’s awake,” a man said, and then footsteps approached before the tape was ripped off of Midorima’s mouth. “Hey there Doc, hope you don’t mind, we borrowed your phone. Gotta give your buddy, Kazunari, a call. Any chance you wanna tell us where he is first, though?”

With everything still so dark, it was difficult for Midorima to gauge exactly how much trouble he was in at the moment, but he figured playing dumb was worth a shot. “I have no idea to whom you are referring. Kindly release me.” They must not have gone past his room if they hadn’t seen Takao sleeping on his couch.

“I just said we have your phone, dumbass. That means we’ve seen his contact.” A fist then connected, hard, with Midorima’s face. “Boys, just don’t kill him while I call our local drug dealer.”

Midorima was fairly good at taking a single punch normally, but in this situation, bound and against a wall, he didn’t really have much room to maneuver, so it hit him hard. And also, it didn’t stop with a single punch—the next blow was a solid kick to the gut, making it much harder to breathe and rendering him even more vulnerable to further attacks.

The first man found Takao’s contact in the phone and pressed the call button, putting it on speaker so they could all hear.

* * *

“Shin-chan! What can I do for y—” He cut off as he heard something that sounded distinctly pained. “Shin-chan?”

The man snorted.  _ “‘Shin-chan, huh? That’s cute.”  _ He paused for a moment to let Takao hear another pained sound from Midorima, then continued,  _ “So, tell me, how much do you care about your Shin-chan?” _

Takao changed his tone to one of ice as he answered. “Enough that you’re going to regret letting me hear him in pain. Didn’t you hear about what happened to the last guy that messed with him when I was around?”

_ “Yeah, sure,” _ the man replied in a nonchalant tone.  _ “But that guy was a joke. We’re not. And if you don’t believe me, well, feel free to test us. I just wouldn’t be able to guarantee Shin-chan’s safety if you did.” _

“Nice bluff, but you know that you can’t kill him, because then you wouldn’t have any leverage on me. So, what is it exactly that you want so bad you’re kidnapping people? Something heavier than pot, I’m guessing.”

The man’s voice began to sound more curt.  _ “Meth. As much of it as you can get. Bring it to us exactly twenty-four hours from now.” _ He provided a location where they could safely trade the drugs for Midorima. _ “And if you don’t, or if you bring a weapon, or try anything else funny, I  _ will _ kill your friend. Because, in case you haven’t realized this, you’re actually  _ not _ the only drug dealer in the area.” _

“True. But, I  _ am _ the only one who has meth and would not choose to solve this problem by shooting the person you kidnapped myself before shooting you. I’m sure you heard about Haizaki doing that at one point, and none of the other drug dealers around here pedal anything stronger than coke,” Takao said, starting to pace to work off nervous energy. “Give the phone to Midorima.”

_ “Bring him over here!” _ he snapped to someone, and then after a moment, he continued,  _ “Say hello, Doc.” _

Midorima had to cough and gasp in several breaths before he could get even a single word out.  _ “Takao…?” _

Takao’s voice softened for Midorima. “Yep. Don’t you worry, Shin-chan, I’ll get you out of there. And I won’t perform any medical treatment that you don’t explicitly tell me is okay, since I know you’re terrified of how I take care of injuries. You’ll be fine. You’ve just got to sit tight for a little while.”

_ “Don’t—do—anything—stupid,”  _ Midorima managed to choke out before being dragged away again.

_ "See you soon, Kazunari,” _ the man said into the phone and then ended the call.

“Fuck. Shit. I fucked up,” Takao muttered once he heard the line go dead. He’d gotten too close with Midorima. He’d  _ been  _ there when the bastards had taken him. He’d been just two rooms away.

With a few more muttered curses, Takao pulled up another contact on his phone. He’d have to call in a favor to get Midorima out of this.

* * *

Haizaki put out his cigarette when he saw a group of men approaching him and Takao. “I hear I’m supposed to let one of you live. A Midorima Shintarou. I’m guessing it’s the guy who looks like he got the shit kicked out of him. One of you hand him to Kazunari, alive, and you’ll suffer the least for switching to a different drug dealer behind my back.” 

They all looked nervously to their leader, who was looking between Takao and Haizaki with a mix of disbelief and trepidation, gauging his own group against them and realizing very quickly that they didn’t stand a chance, even though they couldn't see any weapons on the two drug dealers. He wasn't stupid enough to think they didn't have any, but even if they didn't, he was sure his group couldn't win. Meanwhile, one of the people currently holding Midorima made the split-second decision to attempt to save himself while everyone was distracted, dragging Midorima over to Takao and handing him over.

Haizaki locked eyes with the man. “So, you’re the one who will betray his friends first. You can die last,” he said coldly, pulling out his switchblade and flicking it open with a bone-chilling smile. “Kazunari, we’re even now. Your doctor looks like he could use some ice, maybe you two should get out of here.”

“Roger that, Shougo.” Takao wrapped Midorima’s arm around his shoulders before wrapping his own arm around Midorima’s waist to help him walk, leading him away from what was sure to be a bloody scene by the time Haizaki was done. “C’mon, Shin-chan, let’s get you back to your office.”

Midorima just nodded silently, not wanting to take a deep enough breath to speak, since his ribcage was aching all over with bruises, and he just wanted to get out of there already. The first step was fine, but as soon as he put weight on the other foot, he almost fell over and he hissed in pain, Takao's arm around him the only reason he didn't hit the ground. “Slowly,” he murmured, trying not to put  _ all  _ of his weight on Takao. He kept his voice soft, so as to not aggravate the bruises on his ribs. “I believe they stomped on this ankle at some point.”

As Takao slowed his steps for him, screaming started up behind them. Midorima hesitated for a moment, but Takao determinedly kept them moving forward. “Don't look back. You won't like it,” he said firmly.

Midorima replied in short phrases between limping steps. “Are you certain… this is alright?” He paused with a grimace as a particularly loud scream sounded, and was then cut off and followed by what could only be described as maniacal laughter. “Perhaps… we should… call the police?”

“That sounds like a good way to get _us_ killed,” Takao told him. “You don't call the police around here. But yeah, I'm sure it's alright. I recognized their voices over the phone. They typically buy from Haizaki, but knew they couldn't pull this shit with him, and for some reason thought they could with me. They're the types that would say they'll let you go for the drugs, but kill both of us and take whatever I brought. If it's between us or them, I'm choosing us.”

Midorima frowned, not quite sure whether he wanted to admit out loud that he shared the sentiment to an extent—as a prospective doctor-in-training, it didn’t feel right to condone the rampant murder going on behind them. But he was still aching all over and a little dizzy, and very ready to get away from the violent scene and into a bed. So, instead of replying to that, he sighed after a silent minute and lamented, “This would not have happened if I had been able to find my lucky item yesterday. Cancers were second-to-last in luck yesterday, and I’m sure they’re in last place today.”

Takao actually stopped walking at that before he burst out laughing. “I'm gonna miss you saying weird shit like that,” he told him as he started moving again.

Midorima was affronted at first when Takao laughed at him, but then looked down at him with confusion when he spoke, brow furrowed with mild concern as he said, “What is that supposed to mean? Are you going somewhere?”

“No, I just... I don’t think I’m going to hang around your office as much. I’ll take care of my injuries myself, and when you need drugs we’ll meet somewhere. I really shouldn’t have been hanging out there as much as I did. You got hurt because they were after me,” he explained.

“Unacceptable,” Midorima responded without hesitation. “You are clearly not qualified to treat your own injuries. And if you continue to accumulate injuries at the usual rate, you may as well continue delivering the drugs straight to my office as well, since you will be there so often.”

“Too bad. I’ve lived this long without you taking care of me, and you just almost died because of knowing me.”

“There are many risks I have accepted along with this job, and death is one of them. That will not change, with or without you.”

“But without me, you’re less likely to have to worry about it.” Takao sighed. “Look, we can talk about this later. You’re injured right now. You don’t need to be straining yourself to hold a conversation.”

“I’m fi—” Midorima tried to say a bit too forcefully, triggering a brief coughing fit. Then, the pain that flared up in his chest distracted him from walking, so he stepped on his bad ankle the wrong way and nearly fell over again. He took a moment to steady himself, and then reluctantly remained silent for the rest of the way back. He tried to focus on walking, but found his mind drifting quite frequently to the idea of barely ever seeing Takao again, and trying to figure out why it upset him so much when, really, Takao was just his drug dealer and occasional patient, wasn’t he? He had no reason to be so attached to him.

_ You’re in love with him _ , said a small voice, unbidden, from some obscure corner of his brain, and he quickly pushed it aside—that was  _ not true _ , he’d already established that. Just because he happened to find Takao attractive, and enjoyed his company, and was constantly concerned about his safety  _ didn’t mean  _ he was in love. ...And even if he  _ was _ —which, he wasn’t—Takao was clearly not attached or attracted to him in any way… or to men at all for that matter. He’d had  _ at least  _ two girlfriends.

By the time they had gotten back to the office, his train of thought had become convoluted, to the point where he’d half-convinced himself that maybe it  _ would  _ be better for Takao to stop frequenting his office, both for Midorima’s sake  _ and  _ for his own sake. Then, they’d never have to worry about any of these weird  _ feelings  _ issues coming to light and causing trouble.

Takao was limited to putting ice on Midorima’s wounds, because he wasn’t trusted with anything else apparently. He couldn't just leave Midorima quite yet though, so he pulled out the medical textbook he’d been reading before to pass the time, but he couldn’t focus on it. His mind was spinning with thoughts of why he had gone to such lengths to get Midorima back, and why he hated the idea of not hanging out around him anymore. He peered over the textbook at Midorima lying on the bed, and he paled a bit as it occurred to him that what was happening was a lot like... feelings. Well... that was disconcerting. But, all the more reason to not hang out around Midorima as much. If he had feelings for him then he didn’t want to be the reason that Midorima got hurt. Again.

Midorima tried to concentrate on examining his injuries, but found himself glancing up at Takao every so often… until he looked up to see Takao looking right back at him, and then he averted his gaze quickly and finished taking inventory of his injuries without looking back up.

“So...” he began a few minutes later, his voice barely more than a murmur, because with such a heavy atmosphere weighing down upon them, it felt as though a loud interruption would upset the balance—would spill all of the unspoken words hanging between them. He continued slowly, “I... seem to be fairly stable, however… my ankle seems to be in worse condition than I anticipated. In order to recover properly, I should not put any weight on it at all for some time. If…” He paused, took a deep breath, and dispelled any further hesitation, blurting out the rest of his words somewhat quickly. “If you have no other pressing matters to attend to, I would greatly appreciate your continued presence for the next two or three days, in case I should require assistance.” At the very end, he finally met Takao’s gaze again and made himself hold it, waiting for his response.

Takao bit his lip uncertainly before nodding. The idea had been to not spend more time around Midorima than he absolutely had to, but he also couldn’t leave him alone. Not when he was the reason Midorima was hurt. “I’ve got a few errands tomorrow, but I’ll have my friend Riko stop by to look after you when I do that.”

The relief that Takao would be sticking around for at least a few more days was more intense than Midorima expected, so when a tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, he just sort of let it happen, blaming it on his state of mental and physical exhaustion. “Thank you,” he replied.

For a moment Takao just stared. “I think that's the first time you've smiled at me, Shin-chan,” he said, flashing a bright smile in return.

Midorima didn't stand a chance against the blush that instantly colored his cheeks. “That—that is of no importance.”

“It's important to me,” Takao replied, looking back down at the book before he could say something more embarrassing.

Midorima wasn't entirely sure how long he spent staring before he caught himself, but he hoped it wasn't too terribly long as he tore his gaze away and settled back into the pillows and tried not to think too deeply into Takao’s words. The tension in the room seemed to lessen a bit as time went on, and he heard the sound of Takao turning the page of the book with increasing regularity after a while. Eventually, Midorima closed his eyes, and in the now-peaceful silence he fell asleep in minutes.

* * *

For a moment Midorima thought he was having a nightmare when he woke up to what appeared to be Takao trying to take care of one of his patients. It was with no small amount of horror that he realized that was not the case.

“Look man, I'll be honest, I'm only halfway through the chapter on this stuff, but I'm pretty sure these are the meds you should be taking,” Takao said in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring tone.

Midorima sat up as quickly as he could and snapped, “Takao!” ...or, well, he tried to, but he seemed to have chosen a particularly bad way to sit up, because it felt like his entire ribcage was suddenly on fire all at once. So, the second half of Takao’s name devolved into a wheeze of pain.

“Shin-chan! Oh thank God, I haven't finished the head trauma chapter. What do I do for a guy that got hit in the head with a crowbar?”

Midorima had to just breathe for a moment before he could respond, rubbing his temple in both exasperation and pain. “You don't have to do anything except hand me my clipboard, a pen, and a blank new intake form from my desk,” he said, tacking on a curt “please,” instructing him on where to find said form, and then turning to the patient and asking him to sit in the chair at the bedside. Being injured was not going to stop him from doing his job.

Takao mumbled about not being trusted and patients treating patients as he did as he was told, handing the stuff to Midorima. “Do your thing, Doc. Try not to strain yourself too much. You really should invest in a ‘we’re closed’ sign.”

Midorima scoffed. “An emergency medical clinic can't just  _ close _ , that defeats the purpose.” And then he turned and began asking the patient questions and inspecting his wound, shortly diagnosing him with a moderate concussion and just giving him a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers and recommending bed rest. He noticed the actual wound was still uncovered and in risk of infection, so he asked Takao to bring him bandages, but found his ribs were too sore for him to lift his arms over his head for an extended amount of time. “Takao,” he said reluctantly, “will you assist me in cleaning and bandaging this man’s injury?”

Takao grinned. “Ohhhh? Sounds like Shin-chan is trusting me now~” he said before getting to work on the relatively simple task.

Midorima rolled his eyes. “If I didn't trust you, I would not have fallen asleep to leave you alone in a room with all of my expensive medical equipment and patient files.”

“Let me rephrase. Sounds like Shin-chan trusts me with treating injuries,” Takao replied.

It took a bit longer than usual, with Midorima having to relay instructions to Takao as he cleaned the wound and wrapped the bandages, but they were still done in just a few minutes. “Alright, you're all set,” Takao told the patient when he finished.

“Come back if you have any complications,” Midorima added. Then he waited for the patient to leave before saying to Takao, “Please tell me that was the first person to come in today.”

“And here I thought we had a trust forming. Yes, Shin-chan, they were the first.”

Midorima sighed in relief, but also frowned slightly in concern. “I certainly hope nothing serious comes in today. I'm not sure how well I could help.”

“Which is why you should invest in a ‘closed’ sign. I can make one for you for the low, low price of you agreeing to some much-needed bed rest,” Takao offered.

Midorima stared, flashing back to all the times Takao had completely blown off his recommendations of bed rest, and was tempted to refuse to rest on principle. Luckily, the logical part of his brain kicked in to remind him that that was an  _ awful  _ idea, and that he should be focusing on recovering as quickly as possible for the sake of his patients. “Very well,” he agreed, only a little reluctantly. “Write that the office is closed until… Monday. And mention an exception for appointments and fatal emergencies. There should be only four or five appointments between now and Monday morning, and I believe most of them are simply for refills of prescribed medication.”

“Got it.” Takao got out pens of a few different colors to get to work. The sign that he posted on the door read:  _ Due to injury, we are closed until Monday. Fatal emergencies and pre-made appointments only. Furthermore, you should keep this inconvenience in mind. Your doctor is important to keeping you lot alive. I suggest you keep him in good health as well. _

He had just closed the door when it reopened and a girl with short brown hair walked in. “Nice sign. I'm guessing Kazu-kun made it?” she greeted.

“Ri-chan! I did actually. I'm pretty proud,” Takao replied.

The nickname stumped Midorima for a moment before he connected it to the name Takao had mentioned before. “You must be Riko,” he said by way of greeting, slightly wary of what kind of people Takao befriended.

“And I presume you're Midorima-kun,” she replied.

“I'll be going then. You two play nice,” Takao said cheerily, but before he turned to leave he leaned over to whisper a warning to Midorima: “If she cooks anything, don't eat it.” And then he was gone.

“So, I hear you got into enough trouble that he had to cash in a favour that Haizaki owed him. What happened there?” Riko asked conversationally.

“A group of rather unsavory individuals wanted free drugs from Takao, and thought that the best way to achieve this goal was to kidnap me, for some reason,” he explained simply.

“Guess I don't need to feel bad for them then,” she decided, perching herself on Midorima’s desk. “Thank you, by the way. For taking care of him, I mean.”

Midorima blinked, a little confused. “I’m only doing my job.”

“Yeah, but he's—for the most part—letting you do that job. I think the last doctor saw him a grand total of three times— excluding drug deliveries. But with _you_? He gave you shooting lessons, called in Haizaki for you, is staying here to look out for you, and made you a passive aggressive sign. So thanks for whatever it is you're doing.”

Midorima nodded in acknowledgement, and then suddenly the last item on that list caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes. “...What do you mean by a passive aggressive sign?”

“He's reminding everyone that they need you to be healthy to keep them healthy,” she told him with a shrug.

Midorima was certain that wasn’t how Takao had worded it, but it was technically true, so he wouldn’t object for the moment. He did, however, voice something he’d been contemplating since Riko had walked in. “I find it…  _ odd _ that Takao is able to keep friends, considering how he makes a habit of antagonizing others and getting into fights.”

“He's your friend, isn't he?” she asked with a tilt of her head. “Kazu-kun actually has a lot of friends. He's pretty good at making them when he wants to.”

Midorima paused. They… were friends, weren’t they? For some reason he’d never really thought of it like that before. “How did you meet him?” he asked curiously.

“Let's see... it was about two years ago.” She laughed a little as she remembered. “He was lost, absolutely soaked to the bone since it had been storming, and looking for one of his friends, who apparently lived on the other side of town, so I let him stay at my place until the storm calmed down some, but…” She looked sheepishly down at the floor. “I  _ may  _ have given him food poisoning, and he caught a cold from the rain, so I ended up letting him stay even longer because I felt bad for making him sick.”

Midorima nodded consideringly… and then the “two years” part sank in. “You’ve known him for quite some time. Has that ever gotten you into trouble?”

“Eh, one time,” she shrugged.

“And did that  _ one time  _ cause Takao to make the decision to terminate your friendship for your safety?” he asked pointedly with a frown.

“I mean, he mentioned it, but I can take care of myself so no, not really.” Riko shrugged again. “I got out of it just fine without him having to intervene.”

Midorima was mildly offended, but overlooked the implication of his ineptitude to further question, “Why should that affect who he associates with? Everyone is in danger by default in this area, no matter who they are.”

“He doesn’t want it to be his fault. He had a friend, Miyaji, who got killed by someone who was after him around the time that he started hanging around this area. Kazu-kun has a lot of friends, but how much he hangs around them is usually determined by how well he thinks they can take care of themselves if something happens. I remember Hayama-kun gave Kazu-kun a black eye one time when Kazu-kun tried to start distancing himself from him because of that incident. Told him he’d kick Kazu-kun’s ass right then and there to prove that he was able to handle himself.” 

Midorima silently contemplated this—the added context behind Takao’s actions made them seem more understandable, but he wasn’t about to just give up. After a minute, he said, “...Are you suggesting I punch Takao in the face?”

“I’m not, because I’m pretty sure you would lose a fight to Kazu-kun. I’m pretty sure you’d lose a fight to me, and you’re nearly as tall as two of me.”

“That… is quite likely,” Midorima admitted reluctantly, and then after a moment of hesitation, asked, “Do you… know anyone who would be willing to teach me how to fight?”

“Thirty bucks a session and I’ll do it for you,” she offered.

Midorima nodded. “Very well. As soon as I have healed sufficiently, we can begin.”

“Cool. Give me your number so I can text you when I’m free.”

* * *

Sunday night rolled around faster than expected, considering Midorima spent the entire few days in bed doing a lot of nothing, but he was grateful to be getting back to work. So, after examining his ankle and testing his weight on it a bit, he got Takao to help him into a brace, and was satisfied to see that that seemed like it would be sufficient to get him through a day’s work, as long as he didn’t stay on his feet for too terribly long.

“You sure you’re gonna be fine?” Takao asked skeptically, frowning at Midorima.

“Yes,” Midorima answered with a nod. “My usual work around here will not require me to be standing for more than an hour or two at a time, and will allow for the healing process of my ankle to remain relatively uninterrupted.”

Takao nodded. “Alright, I guess I'll be heading out now,” he said, picking up his bag. 

Midorima went still—there it was, the one downside to finally having recovered enough to take care of himself. “I… suppose I should not say I will see you soon, as that would not bode well for your health in the immediate future.”

Takao laughed, but it didn't have as much cheer in it as normal. “Yeah, see you soon from a doctor can be a disconcerting thing to hear,” he agreed with a strained smile. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

The false cheer on his face was the worst part, Midorima decided, but he held his gaze anyway as he replied, “And the same to you.”

Takao hesitated in the doorway for a moment before giving a half-hearted wave. “Bye, Shin-chan.”

Midorima acknowledged the wave with a small nod. “Goodbye, Takao,” he said, then averted his gaze so he wouldn't have to watch him leave, and silently reminded himself that this would  _ not  _ be goodbye if everything went according to plan.


	4. Chapter 4

“You aren’t good at this,” Riko observed, looking down at Midorima, who was now lying on the ground.

“Obviously,” Midorima said through gritted teeth, rubbing gingerly at his newly-healed ankle, before pushing himself back to his feet. “I wouldn’t have asked for lessons if I had any skill in this area.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, but I thought there would be at least a little natural talent.”

Midorima rolled his eyes. “My apologies that my ‘natural talents’ do not happen to include hand-to-hand combat.”

“It’s fine. We’ll get you there,” she assured, patting his arm before getting back into a fighting stance.

After they had been training for a few weeks, and he had the basics down, Riko started bringing around other people to help out so that he would know how to fight people of varying sizes, strengths, and fighting styles.

“This is Nijimura. He’s on break from his university in America, and he once beat the shit out of Haizaki,” Riko introduced.

“Hey,” Nijimura said with a simple wave.

Midorima could only manage a nod in greeting, brow furrowed in confusion. “...In what situation does one ‘beat the shit out of Haizaki’ and live?”

Nijimura shrugged. “The one where he’s an annoying piece of shit, someone told me they’d give me five bucks to kick his ass, and I told them I’d do it for free.”

Midorima was still rather curious about the details, but pushed down his questions to focus on the matter at hand. “Well, I don't anticipate having a fistfight with Haizaki at any point in the future,” he said wryly, “but anything you can teach me will be greatly appreciated.”

“I'd definitely recommend you not have one with him, but show me what you've got and I'll try to help you stand a chance against whoever inspired you to need fighting lessons in the first place,” Nijimura said, and with that they began the lesson.

After about twenty minutes of sparring, he suddenly stopped and said, “Alright, what's up with your eyes?”

Midorima was taken aback by his observation, and took a moment to respond. “You're the first person to notice in quite some time; I thought I'd gotten rather good at hiding it,” he said, and then hesitated before continuing—some people didn't take well to meeting people with superhuman abilities, and Midorima hadn't needed to explain his for a while. But he forged ahead anyway—he didn't feel like these people were the close-minded types. “I was born with enhanced senses, but I only have the enhanced vision in one eye,” he explained, watching their reactions carefully.

Nijimura arched an eyebrow. “Well that's fucking weird. Also sounds like a rip-off. You only got half the power. Come by my place sometime and I'll try to come up with something to help you with that.”

“Nijimura-kun is an engineer, and likes to focus on designing and building things to help people with powers,” Riko told Midorima.

“ _Studying_ to be an engineer. I'm not fully licensed yet,” Nijimura corrected her.

Midorima, also a professional-in-training who had decided to get a head start, of sorts, on his career, suddenly had the feeling he’d found something of a kindred spirit in Nijimura. “That will be a well-appreciated job, regardless of your schooling,” he said with a nod and a hint of a smile. “I will gratefully take you up on that offer.”

Nijimura nodded. “We’ll try to make you some glasses. It might take some time to get them exactly right, especially since most of the equipment I use is in one of the university labs, but I'll make it work before I go back to America.” He pulled out his phone and passed it to Midorima. “Give me your number and I'll let you know when I'm free. Honestly, I think this power is hindering you more than anything right now. You can't fight very well because your hand-eye coordination’s got to be seriously messed up.”

“I manage basic surgeries just fine,” Midorima replied, a little defensively, but then admitted, “Relief from the constant headaches would be rather nice though.” He entered his number into the phone while he spoke, then handed it back to Nijimura.

“Fighting isn't surgery, though. You've got to react quickly to everything and try to predict what will happen next. It's a full body thing. And a reflexive thing, but your reflexes can only work so well when you're seeing two different pictures.” He tilted his head and gazed at Midorima consideringly for a moment before adding, “Why do you need to fight, though? People almost always learn to fight for a reason, and you don't strike me as the violent type.”

Midorima nodded along in agreement until the question, at which point he frowned a little. “...Because Takao seems to believe that it is unsafe to be around me unless I am able to defend myself properly.”

“Considering the company he keeps, I'm inclined to agree with him, as much as I hate to do that.” Nijimura looked at Midorima with narrowed eyes, clearly assessing him. Midorima seemed to pass whatever the test was, because Nijimura smiled at him after a moment. “I've gotta get going, but I'll see you soon I'm sure.” He waved and walked off.

The confusion must have shown on Midorima’s face, because Riko took it upon herself to explain. “He's kinda protective of his friends, and even if he won't admit it, Kazu-kun is one of his closest friends, so I think he was trying to decide if he liked the idea of helping you stay close to his friend.”

Midorima couldn't help but think that was a little pointless, considering Takao was a hard-headed person and didn't seem like he'd allow _anyone_ to tell him who he could and couldn't hang out with, but he wisely decided not to comment on this. Instead, he finished the lesson with Riko in relative silence, and then excused himself to begin gathering all the research and data he'd collected over the years about the condition of his eye.

After Midorima sent all of his data to Nijimura, it was only a few days before they arranged a time to meet to test out the prototype of the glasses.

“With the resources I have now, I can only do so much. In fact, the nanotech I'm gonna try to use isn't really something I'm supposed to have taken out of the lab at school,” Nijimura explained when Midorima arrived, looking at the glasses through a magnifying lens and making some final adjustments with miniscule tools before holding them up for him to see. “So, this is a pretty basic, but still functional, version of what I have in mind. Here,” he said, passing them over to him, “try them on. I replicated one of the tests you mentioned over there.”

Midorima looked over to where Nijimura was indicating to see a typical doctor’s office vision test hung on a wall about twenty feet away. He looked at it contemplatively, tested both his good and bad eye without the glasses, and then asked, “Do you have any larger space in which I can stand at least twice this distance away? Or could you print a copy that’s half the size?”

“The printing thing would probably be easier.” He pulled out his laptop and reprinted the sheet after making adjustments, hanging the new version on the wall.

Checking both his eyes again, Midorima nodded. “Perfect.” The last row of letters was small enough that if he took a few steps back, his good eye would be unable to read it. Meanwhile, his bad eye—which was quite close to 20/20 vision, but still didn’t compare—could only make out the first four or five rows. So, he put on the glasses… and immediately squeezed his eyes shut, as the lense over his bad eye refracted a painfully excessive amount of light into it. He took the glasses off and passed them to Nijimura blindly as he blinked the spots out of his vision. “...Too strong, I believe.”

Nijimura frowned but nodded. “We may be here for a while adjusting these.” He warned as he got to work.

It took several tries, and no matter how much he watched, Midorima could not for the life of him understand what it was that Nijimura was changing about the glasses each time, as they appeared exactly the same from the outside. But finally, after over an hour, he put the glasses on and they worked. He didn’t even have to test each individually to know—the moment he blinked his vision into focus, everything felt _right_.

“How are these ones?”

Midorima took a moment to make sure, covering his good eye, and couldn’t help smiling a bit in relief. “I can see just as well with this eye as I can with the other, so… they’re perfect.” He uncovered his eye and looked around the room a bit, marvelling at how nice it was, before his gaze settled on Nijimura and he nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”

Nijimura offered him a tired smile. “No problem, glad I could help out,” he said, getting out of his work chair and stretching.

* * *

From that point on, fighting lessons went much smoother. They had to further modify the glasses so that they would stay on his face while he was fighting, instead of slipping off, but besides that, the improved vision and lack of constant headaches made everything easier. When Nijimura had to go back to America for school, he left Midorima with something resembling praise. (“Hey, not too bad. Keep it up and maybe you won’t get killed out there.”) So, several weeks of lessons with Riko later, Midorima was finally beginning to gain some confidence in his fighting skills, and in his ability to convince Takao that he was capable of defending himself.

So, naturally, the next time he saw Takao for a drug delivery, his brain decided that the best way to greet him was with a solid punch to the face.

Takao didn’t even think about it. His automatic reaction was to punch back, and he felt Midorima’s nose crack under his fist. “What the _hell,_ Shin-chan!” he exclaimed with wide eyes after he realized what had just happened.

Midorima reeled back from the blow—he really should have seen that coming, shouldn’t he?—and gingerly pinched at the end of his nose to staunch the flow of blood until he could get ahold of some gauze. “I… um. I was… trying…” His gaze darted around the room, looking anywhere but at Takao. “...Trying to… to prove I can be your friend…?”

Takao’s eyebrows furrowed. “By... hitting me?” he asked. He didn’t even look like he was really in any pain as he absentmindedly rubbed his jaw where he’d been punched.

“...Yes,” Midorima mumbled, awkwardly adjusting his glasses. “I have been informed that this is not the first time someone has used this approach, so I figured it was likely to work.”

Takao just continued to stare at him for a moment. “Yeah... Kotarou did that. But it wasn’t so... out of nowhere. And he made sure he wouldn’t get hit back. Are you okay?”

A slight blush was creeping across Midorima’s cheeks, and he was feeling stupider by the second. “Besides the _broken nose_ , I am fine,” he grumbled, chancing a glance up at Takao, but he ended up staring out the window nearby instead. After a moment, he made another attempt to justify his actions. “...Nijimura approves.”

Takao looked bewildered by the abrupt change of subject. “Who the fuck cares what Niji-chan thinks? Did he actually tell you to punch me in the face? He approved that?! Oh, he is _lucky_ he is back in America right now.”

“Not—not exactly, no…” Midorima drifted off, hesitant to explain more, since he was already so embarrassed, but at this point he might as well. He figured he’d already dug his grave, he might as well lay in it. He sighed before speaking. “He and Riko, and a few other people, have been teaching me to fight, since I have been informed that that is the best way to convince you that you don’t need to—to keep your distance from me for my own safety.”

“And he approved of—I see. He did that thing again. That thing where he think’s he’s in charge of who I associate myself with.” Takao pulled out his phone, scrolling until he found Nijimura, under the contact name “mother,” and called. “You _do_ know that you’re not actually my mother, right? You can’t just pick who I’m friends with for me,” he said as soon as he heard Nijimura pick up.

 _“Like I'd ever want to be your mother,”_ Nijimura replied, the eye roll evident in his voice. _“I'm just making sure the people who are trying to be friends with you aren't complete trash, is all.”_

“That’s not for you to decide!” Takao argued, throwing one of his hands up in exasperation and pacing around, even though Nijimura couldn’t see him. “I can pick my own friends without your help. Besides, you have a few shitty friends.”

_“Yeah, well my shitty friends aren't likely to try to kill me, unlike some of your shitty friends. Besides, you’re friends with most of my shitty friends. You’re one of them.”_

“Shin-chan couldn't kill me if he tried! He just got his nose broken! You're just being an overprotective parent! And you're paying my phone bill this month since it's going to be crazy for calling America.”

Midorima’s embarrassment had abated somewhat by this point, and now he was just feeling mildly insulted by the conversation going on (thanks to his enhanced hearing, he could hear both sides clearly). He turned away from Takao and sat in front of a mirror to begin examining and treating his nose.

Nijimura scoffed. _“Okay, first off, I wouldn't have spent a single moment of my time helping him if I thought he could or would kill you. Second, I sure am_ not _gonna pay your phone bill! You're the one who called me, idiot, so it's your problem!”_

“Bill is due by the third next month. Mail takes a while from America to Japan!” he said cheerfully before hanging up and rolling his eyes.

“Guy has been trying to mother me since I met him.” Takao muttered, rolling his eyes as he remembered their first meeting.

_It was the middle of the night, and it had been snowing since mid-morning. Nijimura was walking home from the store, wearing three jackets and a scarf and still hurrying to get out of the cold. He almost walked right by the guy huddled against the wall around the corner from his apartment building, but he sneezed as Nijimura approached, drawing his attention to him. And that was when he noticed that the guy didn’t seem to be wearing anything warmer than a light sweatshirt, and he paused in front of him, asking, “...Hey, kid. You got a place to stay?”_

_“If you’re looking for prostitutes that’s three streets down, buddy,” Takao replied with disinterest. “And they probably aren’t outside in this weather.”_

_Nijimura frowned. “And you shouldn’t be either. If you need a bed for the night, I have a spare one.”_

_Takao frowned a bit, looking the other -who barely looked older than him- up and down to try and figure out what was going through his head. Why was he bothering? “No thanks. I’m fine here.”_

_Nijimura’s frown turned into a scowl. “Ditch the pride, jackass. I don’t want your frostbite on my conscience.” He held out a hand. “Come on, it’s cold as balls out here.”_

_“I said I’m fine. I’ve got a jacket on, and you don’t_ know _me. Nothing I do needs to be on your conscience.”_

 _“Oh come_ on _,” Nijimura repeated, rolling his eyes and stepping forward to grab Takao under the arms and pull him up to his feet._

_Takao didn’t even think about it. He swung out his fist, hitting Nijimura square in the jaw. “Dude, piss off!”_

_Nijimura was a little caught off guard, but had a fast reaction time and rolled with the punch so it didn’t hit him as hard as it could have. He only stumbled back half a step before looking back at Takao with a glare, rubbing his jaw. “What the_ fuck? _Do you_ wanna _fucking die in the snow?”_

_“More than I wanna die in some stranger’s house.” Takao shot back._

_“I’m not gonna kill you, dumbass,” Nijimura said, grabbing his arm and attempting to drag him down the street (this time leaving one hand free to block any forthcoming punches). “Come on, I live right around the corner.”_

_“H-hey! Let go!” Takao groaned as he felt something falling out of his pocket. Probably either his wallet or pot, but he might have to kiss that goodbye if he couldn’t get free. “This is kidnapping! I could call the police!”_

_“Yeah, sure, do that. I’m sure they’ll be happy to bring me in for kidnapping and you in for having drugs on you,” Nijimura said with false pleasantness._

_Which is how Takao found himself being blackmailed into having a safe place to sleep for the night._

It took less than a minute for Midorima to ascertain that his nose was not seriously injured, despite its swollen and bruised appearance, so he couldn’t do much else besides stop the bleeding, take some ibuprofen, and ice the injury. As he reached into his small medical freezer to grab an ice pack, he looked over at Takao, spotting the bruise blooming on his jaw, and guiltily grabbed a second ice pack. “I apologize,” he said, walking over and offering one of the ice packs to him. “That was, perhaps, not one of the smartest decisions I have made.”

Takao accepted the ice pack and placed it over the bruise, looking at Midorima a little apprehensively, as if he almost expected him to try to hit him again. “Probably not. Sorry for breaking your nose.”

Midorima winced at the look on Takao’s face, feeling even guiltier, but he just muttered, “It’s fine.” After a moment of silence, in which he wasn’t sure what to do, he remembered the reason why Takao was there in the first place, and got out his wallet. “How much?”

“I broke your nose, so we’ll call it even this time,” he said, holding out a bag with the drugs.

Midorima blinked, a little surprised, but nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”

Takao quirked his lips up in a smile, but it made him wince a little because of the bruise on his jaw. “No problem.”

Another pang of guilt, and Midorima turned away to begin silently sorting through and putting away the drugs, finding it a little easier to not look at Takao for the moment.

“Uh, see ya around, I’ve got another delivery to handle.” Takao waved, even though Midorima wasn’t looking at him, and walked out.

* * *

Takao spent the majority of his day talking to Riko, in an attempt to understand what the hell had just happened. She insisted that, while Midorima couldn’t beat up Takao (as most people couldn’t without coming out of it far worse off for it), he could adequately defend himself. So, a few days later, Takao showed up at his office, reading one of his textbooks on the effects of drugs.

Midorima had been mostly convinced he had messed up, and would possibly never see Takao again, so when he came downstairs one day to see Takao there in his office, he was surprised. Pleasantly so, though he didn’t really want to admit that out loud. He carefully composed himself, before fully walking into the room, managing a mostly casual, “Hello, Takao.”

“Oh, Shin-chan, good. Just in time, I had a question about this.” He turned the book so that it was facing Midorima. “It tells me the long term effects of this, and this,” he said, pointing at two different drugs, “but what about when you take both at the same time?”

Midorima found himself not nearly as horrified as he should have been, merely sighing in mild exasperation and deadpanning, “I assume this isn’t a hypothetical situation?”

Takao just flashed him a bright smile as an answer.

Compared to the weak smile he’d gotten last time he’d seen Takao, this one was blinding—and with his vision now fixed, he could take in every last detail of Takao’s smiling face, with no more blurriness or dizzying double-images. After a few seconds, he turned his gaze to the book instead, nervously adjusting his glasses and beginning the explanation. “...It depends on how much of each substance was consumed, and how often.”

Instead of answering, Takao’s eyes had gone wide and he was staring at Midorima with open surprise. “Shin-chan, since when do you wear glasses?” He plucked them off of Midorima’s face and placed them on his own… only to experience a sudden, intense burning sensation in one eye. “Holy shit!” He quickly removed them and looked between Midorima and the glasses with astonishment.

“Don’t _do_ that, you’re going to hurt your eyes,” Midorima snapped, snatching them back and putting them back on his own face. “And how is it that you only just now noticed? I was wearing them last time you saw me.”

“I was distracted by getting punched in the face and breaking your nose,” Takao reasoned, wincing as he felt a strong headache coming on. “What the fuck is up with those glasses though?!”

“I—um.” Midorima hesitated briefly, but it didn’t take him long to take a deep breath and just say it—Takao would probably just do something stupid like laugh at him anyway. So, what did he have to worry about? “I have the power of enhanced senses. But I only got the super vision in one eye. Hence, glasses, to even them out.”

Takao blinked and was silent for a moment before saying, “Huh. Guess it’s a good thing that you met Niji-chan then. But holy _shit_ my head hurts.” Putting the glasses on had felt like stabbing his optical nerves with white-hot daggers, and the headache was only getting worse. “That must be some hell of a super sight power you’ve got. Do you think I can have an ice pack?”

Midorima nodded and went to get it. “He’s a bit… aggressive,” he commented about Nijimura as he handed Takao the ice pack, “but he seems to be on the path to becoming a great engineer, if his work on these is anything to go by.” He tapped the glasses indicatively.

“Aggressive? Eh, I guess,” Takao said with a shrug, holding the ice pack up to his temple.

Midorima shot him a bewildered look. “He beat up Haizaki. For free. And for no reason, as far as I know.”

“I know. What a loser, right? I would have charged,” Takao said, rolling his eyes, only to wince as the movement caused shooting pain in his head. “That was for me, actually, not no reason.” His eyes lit up. “I have it on video! I do charge people for that.”

Midorima wasn’t sure which part of that to address first, until Takao got to the end. Then, he rolled his eyes and responded, “I spent three weeks being beaten up by Nijimura. I’m not paying to watch him beat up someone else.”

“Alright, but I’ve made good money on that video.” Thirty bucks to just watch it once on Takao’s phone.

“I’m sure you did; there are a lot of stupid people around here,” Midorima replied, still exasperated, but admittedly also a little curious. “What exactly started the fight?”

Takao laughed as he remembered. “Oh, the first time I met Haizaki he tried to shoot me. I was high as fuck, so I don’t really remember how, but I managed to not get shot even with the gun in my face. I was complaining about it to Niji-chan and jokingly told him I’d give him five bucks to beat Haizaki up for me, and he told me he’d do it for free, and sure thing the next day I was watching Haizaki get the shit kicked out of him.”

A part of Midorima thought that willingness for violence was rather excessive, but another part of him imagined Haizaki pointing a gun at Takao, and thought maybe it wasn’t such an odd reaction after all. So in response, he just settled for an ambivalent, “I see.”

“To be fair, he already didn’t like Haizaki and probably would have taken any excuse to beat him up.”

“Who _does_ like Haizaki?” Midorima countered, arching an eyebrow.

“Haizaki,” Takao answered without hesitation.

Midorima snorted softly at that. “Good for him then, I suppose.” There was a beat of silence between them, and suddenly Midorima had a thought. “You're not hiding an injury under your sweatshirt again, are you? Or did you just have the question about the drugs? Or are you here for some other reason?” Because sometimes he really couldn't tell with Takao—for being such an expressive person, he was very good at hiding what he didn't want people to know.

“I'm perfectly healthy, Shin-chan.” Takao lifted up his sweatshirt to prove it before letting it fall to cover himself again. “Just hanging out until my next delivery since it's nearby.”

The confirmation that things really were back to normal, and that he _hadn’t_ messed it up, was a bigger relief than Midorima expected, and so he wasn’t prepared to subdue the small smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. He turned away to hide it. “I see,” he said, heading over to his desk and pulling out his laptop in preparation to do some work. “I suppose that’s fine.”

“Oh, if I get any mail from Niji-chan here, let me know,” he said, before returning to the book.

Midorima gave a vague affirmative answer, then got to work on some assignments that were due far sooner than he would’ve liked. A companionable silence fell over them, and Midorima felt much more content than he had for the past several weeks.

* * *

“Shin-chan~ Happy birthday!” Takao said as a walked inside the office, several weeks later, holding two boxes.

Midorima, sitting at his desk, looked up from his assignment and blinked in surprise. “...Thank you,” he said slowly, eyeing the boxes with suspicion. “...What do you have there?”

“Cake and a present.” He walked over and placed the boxes on Midorima’s desk. “This one is the present, and this one is the cake,” He said, pointing them out with a bright smile. “You’re not allergic to anything, right? I wasn’t sure what kind of cake you like, so I just went for vanilla to play it safe.”

“I’m not allergic to anything. Vanilla is fine,” Midorima informed him absently, still staring at the boxes. In theory, he figured he should open them, but his mind was still busy processing the fact that this was really happening. He tore his gaze briefly away from the boxes to look at Takao, eyes still slightly squinted in suspicion. “How did you even know that today was my birthday?”

“It’s the only thing I remember from the last time you tried to lecture me about Oha Asa,” Takao told him honestly.

Midorima opened his mouth to be offended, but after a moment, decided that it was probably better to let it go, especially since Takao had apparently just gone to the trouble to get him a gift. He resumed staring at the boxes, reaching towards the one that Takao had pointed out at the gift… and then paused to look back at Takao again. “...You do realize you didn’t have to get me anything.” There was just barely a hint of a question in his statement.

“I know. It’s not even that great, I just thought about you when I saw it.” He shrugged.

With his curiosity now as strong as his suspicion, Midorima finally grabbed the box with a sigh and opened it. He really had no idea what he’d been expecting, but somehow still managed to be surprised when the gift turned out to be a green teddy bear with glasses. Picking it up out of the box, he stared at it for a minute, brow furrowed in bewilderment, before turning to Takao and saying, “What exactly am I supposed to do with this?”

“No clue. I told you, not that great of a gift. I probably should have gone for something practical, but it made me think of you.” He offered a sheepish smile.

Midorima blinked, felt heat rising to his face, and immediately averted his gaze, looking back down at the bear, as Takao’s expression and words suddenly made him feel both flustered and a little guilty for his initial reaction. “Well… thank you,” he said slowly, attempting to will the blush away as he sat the bear on his desk, and only risked looking back up at Takao when his face was a more normal temperature. “I’m… sure I can find some use for it. Perhaps it will be my lucky item someday.”

Takao beamed at him. “Maybe. You carry around a lot of weird stuff for your lucky items. Alright, cake time. The best part of any birthday ever,” He said, opening the second box for Midorima with a bright smile.

At that point, a tiny smile finally pulled at the corner of Midorima’s lips—Takao’s enthusiasm was contagious, as usual—and he nodded. Soon, they were both sitting with slices of cake and just talking, and Midorima had never cared much for celebrating his birthday, but… he could get used to this.

* * *

Takao was walking down the street when he spotted a familiar face and his eyes lit up with excitement. “Ryo-chan!” he called, waving at the other.

It took Kise a moment to recognize him in broad daylight, versus the dimmer lighting of the strip club, but when he did he grinned and waved back, stopping to talk with him. “Kazucchi!!! How are you?”

“Pretty good. Got through a whole day of deals without anyone trying to start something. How about you?”

“Not bad. I’ve got today off, amazingly!” he replied with a little laugh. He bit his lip for a moment before continuing—he usually didn’t like to mix his personal life with his job, but he had really enjoyed talking with Takao that day he’d come into the club. So, he added, just a tad hesitant, “If you’re done for the day, do you wanna… go get coffee, or something?”

Takao beamed at him. “Yeah, sounds great. I know a shop we can go to.”

All of his excitement returning to him, Kise looped his arm through Takao’s and singsonged, “Then lead the way, Kazucchi~”

“Of course, good sir!” he said and they chatted pleasantly as they made their way to the cafe. Takao paid for their drinks, and they sat at a cozy little table in a corner.

After a few minutes, the subject of conversation turned to their respective jobs, and the associated risks and benefits of the work.

“I had a pretty violent client the other day,” Kise said, grimacing as he remembered the encounter. He pulled his scarf down a bit to reveal a ring of bruised skin around his neck. “Might have died, actually, if one of the bouncers hadn't seen the guy slip by everyone else.”

Takao winced sympathetically. “Jesus. I know a doctor if you ever need one. He’s recently started learning how to defend himself. If this is something that happens to you often, you might want to consider doing the same.”

Kise nodded. “Murasakicchi—the bouncer—suggested that too, I'm definitely gonna do it.” Then he tilted his head in confusion. “You don't mean, like, a _hospital_ doctor, right? Is there some kind of street doctor around here?”

“Yeah, I deal him the drugs he uses for his business.” Takao wrote down the address of Midorima’s shop on one of their napkins.

“Good to know, thanks! What's his name?” Kise asked as he recorded the address in his phone.

“Midorima Shintarou. I call him Shin-chan though, so it’s the same person if you hear me refer to him as that.”

“‘Shin-chan’, huh?” he said, arching an eyebrow, and then a sly grin pulled at one side of his mouth. “Are you two dating~?”

“Nah. Until recently I’d have said that he probably just tolerates me at most, but I’m still gonna say he just likes me as a friend. Even if he didn’t, he doesn’t plan on sticking around here, so I don’t think dating is really an option.”

Kise sensed some repressed emotions there, so, being the nosy gossip he was, he decided to pry a little. “Sounds to me like you kinda _want_ it to be an option~”

Takao made a noncommittal humming sound behind his coffee cup. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not. Besides, I don’t really know the guy, and he doesn’t really know me. I mean, I’ve known him for about a year and I’m only just now finding out that he’s got some powers in him. And if I’ve ever told him anything about myself, I sure as hell don’t remember doing it, so it would have been under the influence if it happened at all. I think friends is as good as it’s gonna get there.”

“If you don't remember how much you’ve told him, then you don't know how much he knows about you,” Kise pointed out, arching an eyebrow and taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, “You don't know how he sees you, and you sure won't know how he feels about you unless you ask.”

Takao set his cup down on the table and leaned back in his chair. “Doesn’t matter how he feels about me, or what I’ve said, or how I feel about him,” he said, crossing his arms and shrugging. “He’s not planning on staying here. He wants to be an actual doctor, in a real hospital. I’m not gonna be the one to fuck that up for him, and hospitals probably don’t like to hire people who hang around or date drug dealers. Even if I find out he does see me as more than a friend, I’m not doing anything about it.”

“You do care about him though,” Kise said, resting his cheek in his hand with a smile that was just a little sad. Then after a moment, he brightened to a more hopeful expression. “But, I mean, it takes a long time to become a doctor, right? If he just started, he’s got like… I don’t know, six, seven years before he gets an actual full-time position? You’ve got time.”

“Wouldn’t that be worse?” Takao asked, tilting his head. “I mean, I don’t know much about how long it takes to become a doctor, but wouldn’t it be worse to let myself be with him and then him leave? Being his friend is good enough for me.”

Kise shrugged. “If you say so. But, you know, a lot can change in just a few years. I mean, barely a year ago I definitely wouldn’t have seen myself being where I am today!” he said, laughing a little in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit, but it only ended up sounding more self-detrimental as he added, “And, well, who knows? Maybe a year from now I’ll… be somewhere different. Maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Takao flashed him a smile, ready to let the topic of his feelings drop. “What would you be doing if you weren’t here then?”

The smile was contagious, and Kise found himself grinning just a tad wistfully. “Hmm… travelling the world, maybe? I kinda wanted to be a pilot when I was a kid, just so I could visit lots of new places. ...But, I mean, I had lots of dumb kid dreams, like being a rock star or a model or a superhero or whatever.” He laughed again. “Hey, maybe if I learn to fight I _could_ be a superhero. All like, super crime-fighting badass and stuff,” he said, half-jokingly.

“Oh? Do you have powers too then?” Takao asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kise grinned proudly. “I’m a shapeshifter! That’s one of the main reasons I even got into this business. I can be whoever you want me to be,” he said with a wink.

“Don’t see why you’d need to be anything else. You seem pretty great as-is,” Takao said, returning the wink.

Kise felt his on-the-job persona emerging, but instead of responding to the compliment with a fake smile and possibly the removal of an article of clothing, he made sure to smile genuinely. “Thanks, Kazucchi! You’re pretty hot yourself,” he said, his eyes dropping momentarily to check him out. “ _You_ could probably be a model, I bet you clean up nice.”

Takao laughed a bit at that. “No way. Too many scars. Hazard of being a drug dealer. Why don’t you do the modeling thing if you don’t like where you work though?”

The smile dimmed, and Kise pulled his hands under the table to clench them in the ends of his scarf. “Well, um…” he began hesitantly. “I… _may_ have gotten in a bit deeper than I originally planned. That club’s a front for a lot of things, and, well…” He tried to laugh, but it just sounded nervous and uncomfortable, so he stopped. “Let’s just say I was suddenly homeless at some point earlier this year, and they offered me some ‘extra work’ in exchange for a place to live. So, I kinda can’t leave right now. Or anytime soon, because between them and the club taking their shares, I don’t make nearly as much as I should be.” When he finished speaking, he realized he’d averted his gaze, and made an effort to look back up to make eye contact again.

Takao watched him with consideration for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He didn't bother to take money out of it and just tossed the whole thing to Kise. “If anyone tries to stop you from leaving let them know that they’ll have to deal with me. You should really try modeling. Hell, even that superhero thing if that's what you want. Plenty of other people with powers have been trying to play Batman.”  

Kise blinked in surprise, barely maintaining enough awareness to catch the wallet, and when he felt how heavy it was, his jaw went slack. “Kazucchi… h-how much is in here?” he asked in quiet awe.

Takao shrugged. “A lot. Haven't had the chance to put it somewhere safer yet. I was actually gonna do that later today. One less thing to worry about.”

Kise peeked inside the wallet, his heart pounding, and clapped a hand over his mouth as he saw a stack of hundred dollar bills—from the looks of it, more than enough to pay the security deposit and first month’s rent on his own apartment, if he wanted. At that point, he couldn't keep himself from tearing up. “Th-thank you,” he said softly, carefully dabbing at his eyes with a napkin in an attempt to preserve his makeup. “Oh my _god,_ thank you so much.”

Takao offered a small smile. It wasn't like he could really afford to go throwing away money all the time, but… Well, he couldn't make himself regret it when Kise looked so happy. “You're welcome. I hope things work out for you.”

Kise grinned brightly back at him as he imagined the possibilities his future now held, and it helped ward the tears away. Looking at Takao also helped, he realized, as he studied Takao’s face and found he just couldn't stop smiling. “You… you have to let me repay you somehow,” he said as he reached out to gently lay a hand on one of Takao’s. “...Come home with me tonight?” he offered, looking up at Takao through his lashes, still smiling.

Takao shook his head. “Not if you're doing it for the money. I'm supposed to be helping you get out of that.” He also just made it a general policy not to actually pay for sex, since he liked to think he was good-looking enough that he didn't have to.

Kise pouted. “What if I was doing it because I think you're really nice and really attractive, and I think that you and me could have a lot of fun together?”

Takao’s lips quirked upwards. “Well, then I'd be far more interested.”

“Well then,” Kise said, his sunny grin returning, “no sense in wasting any more time then, right? We've got a long night ahead of us.” He downed the rest of his coffee before standing and offering a hand to Takao. “Let's get outta here,” he said with a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos help kick my butt into gear so that I actually beta and post chapters like I'm supposed to :) -Kate


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note just so the timeline doesn't get too confusing, in case anyone's counting: this is a transitional chapter, covering about four years' time total!

“Shin-chan, do you have any duct tape? If a bunch of middle schoolers can make wallets out of the stuff so can I. And I need one since I gave my wallet to a stripper yesterday,” Takao said by way of greeting when he walked into the shop.

Midorima was already rooting around for the roll of duct tape in his desk drawer when Takao explained his need for it, and he turned to stare at him in bewilderment. “You _what?_ ”

“Gave my wallet away. So now I need one, but I can't very well buy one right now. Maybe after a few deals. So, I'm going to make one for the time being.”

Midorima continued staring. “...Are you trying to tell me you gave your wallet, and _all of your money,_ to a _stripper?_ ”

“Well, he wasn't on the job. We were getting coffee. So not in the way you're probably thinking, but yeah, pretty much what happened,” Takao replied. “About that duct tape, though…?”

Midorima still didn't quite understand, but he was honestly a little afraid to ask for details at this point, knowing Takao. So, he just sighed, shook his head, and tossed over the roll of duct tape he'd just pulled out of the drawer, before turning back to the assignment he'd been working on prior to the interruption.

While Takao got to work on trying to figure out how the hell duct tape could be turned into a wallet, he thought back to his conversation with Kise, and his complaints that he and Midorima didn't really know each other that well. He figured he could try to take small steps in fixing that by being less vague when telling Midorima things. “I was trying to help him get out of here. That's why I gave away the wallet and its contents. We met before, when I was giving that ganguro kid his drugs at the strip club.”

Midorima turned back to face him, eyebrows slightly raised in surprise at Takao volunteering more information, then furrowed in confusion as he considered Takao’s words. “Why would you give that much to someone you hardly know when you could have saved it to get yourself out of here? That's foolish.”

Takao shrugged. “He's got more of an idea of what he would want to do with it than I do. Being a drug dealer and high school dropout doesn’t get you far anywhere other than here. And at the moment, I'm doing okay for myself. He seemed to have it way worse off. But I used to be pretty bad off like him. Actually considered doing what he's doing, but unlike him I knew what I'd be getting into if I did. It could have changed my whole life if someone had helped me at the time, so I guess I empathized. To be honest though, not a lot of thought really went into the decision. It was mostly just because he was nice and needed help that I could give. If I had thought about it more, I probably would have just given him the money, not my actual wallet.”

Midorima watched him thoughtfully as he spoke, a slight frown on his face. “That’s… kind of you. But you certainly shouldn't make a habit of it. You deserve to be able to improve your life just as much as him, even if you don't have any specific life plans.”

“I'm definitely not planning on making it a habit. That's a more expensive habit than cocaine. But I'll make it back. No need to worry.”

That was easier said than done when it came to Takao, but Midorima didn't say as much. He turned back to his assignment and was silent for a moment, fully intending on getting back to work while Takao worked on his duct tape project… but then something occurred to him and he looked up again. “What on _Earth_ led up to you having coffee with a male stripper?”

“Well, I saw him walking down the street, and remembered him from having a nice conversation while getting a nice lap dance,” Takao began without even looking up from his (hopefully) soon-to-be wallet. It was looking more and more like he would need an online tutorial. “And then he asked if I wanted to get coffee and I said yes.”

Midorima blinked, mildly caught off guard—Takao had only ever mentioned a girlfriend before, after all—but he quickly got over the feeling of surprise. “...I see,” he said, nodding once. “I suppose that makes at least some modicum of sense, compared to most of your... misadventures.”

“Misadventures? You make me sound like a Lord of the Rings character, rather than a drug dealer,” Takao said with a laugh. He made a sound of victory when his duct tape started to take on a vaguely wallet-like shape.

Midorima rolled his eyes. “Fine. Your string of increasingly unfortunate events largely caused by your lacking interpersonal skills, your flippant attitude towards dangerous situations, and your questionable medical decisions. How does that sound?”

“More like me, less like fictional worlds,” Takao replied. His face fell when he tried to open the duct tape wallet, only to find that it stuck together, and he turned crestfallen eyes on Midorima. “Shin-chan, I can’t do it.”

Midorima looked between Takao’s heartbroken expression, the failure of a wallet in his hands, the half-finished assignment on his desk, and he sighed, holding a hand out for the roll of duct tape. “Here. Give that to me.” He sat down at his desk with the roll of duct tape, pushing his homework and medical papers aside, he began to precisely measure out several strips of tape. It took him a brief moment to focus and refresh his memory, but then the process of cutting and assembling the pieces of tape into a wallet was practically mechanical—there’d been an entire month the year before in which he’d been roped into making _dozens_ of the things _._ He passed the completed wallet over to Takao. “Is this suitable?”

Takao stared with wide eyes before taking the wallet and beaming at him. “Where did you learn to do this?”

Any embarrassment Midorima might have felt was evened out by his satisfaction at cheering Takao back up, so he ended up answering relatively calmly. “My younger sister is quite… _enthusiastic_ about crafts. And about coercing me into helping her make them.”

It was news to Takao that Midorima even had a little sister, so maybe this whole sharing more thing really was working. “Well she must be great at them, because you turned out really good too,” Takao said, looking between Midorima and the wallet with amazement.

Midorima dismissed the compliment with a small shake of his head. “It’s a passable job, but I do hope you’re able to get a new wallet sooner rather than later. That won’t hold up long.”

“I’m not getting a new one until this one falls apart, since you made it for me,” Takao told him.

Midorima opened his mouth to object, but quickly realized the futility of doing so, and instead relented. “...If you say so.”

“I do,” Takao said cheerfully, throwing his arms around Midorima in a hug. “Thank you, Shin-chan.”

That caught Midorima off guard, and he tensed, his thoughts and heart racing but his body completely uncertain of what to do. After a long moment, he managed to sort of bend his arms around Takao’s waist. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled, awkwardly patting Takao on the back a few times.

“You’re not good at this,” Takao told him lightly. “Don’t you hug your sister or anything? It’s alright, I’m sure you’ll get better at it.”

Midorima stepped back from Takao, and he could feel his face heating up. “Yes, well, in case you haven't noticed, you are not a nine-year-old girl.”

“Shit, really? I thought for sure I was!” Takao teased.

“In that case, you should probably decrease your intake of illegal substances. Experts say that's the most effective way to rid yourself of such delusions,” Midorima responded wryly.

Takao laughed at that. “That’d be one hell of a trip, Shin-chan. I think I'd be dead.”

Midorima arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you trying to tell me that, with all the time you spend getting high, you haven't had a single delusion as bad as being a young girl?”

Takao tilted his head as he thought about it before his eyes lit up as he realized the delusion to mention. “Sometimes I think I have superpowers,” he told Midorima. He honestly couldn’t remember if he’d had worse hallucinations. He probably had.

“Such as?” he asked curiously.

“I either slow down time or I move really fast, not sure which, and sometimes I can see right through things. Those are always interesting trips.”

Midorima looked at him consideringly. “How old are you, exactly?”

Takao looked a bit confused at the change in subject, but answered easily anyway. “Nineteen.”

“In that case, you could actually have powers,” Midorima observed. “Nineteen is a bit old for powers to manifest, but if this has been happening to you for a while, it could be real.”

Takao waved the idea off. “Nah. I think I would have noticed that. It only happens when I’m seriously tripping, and even then not very offten, so I think it’s safe to say I’m sadly powerless. Unfortunate, cause any of those powers could have helped me in my drug business.”

Midorima turned to go sit back down at his desk. “And you’re going to need all the help you can get,” he said, nodding pointedly at the empty wallet.

“Ye of little faith, Shin-chan,” Takao tsked. “I’ll earn it back. Besides, I always have at least a little cash stashed away, so I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t necessarily believe that Takao had enough emergency money to “be fine”, but it would be far too tiresome to argue the point. So, with only a noncommittal hum in response, Midorima turned back to his assignment and continued working in relative silence while Takao picked up one of his textbooks to start flipping through.

 

* * *

It was a quiet but busy morning for Midorima at the clinic. Upon waking up, he had to check on a few patients who had stayed the night, and then immediately afterwards he sat at his desk and got to work on a big project he had due soon for one of his classes.

As noon approached, though, and Takao had yet to make an appearance in his clinic, Midorima found the quiet becoming more stifling than anything, and turned on the TV to a random news channel— just to have some background noise. It was relaxing, but it only took about half an hour for it to become distracting.

_“Vigilantes, Blue Lightning and the Pink Lady, now turned heroes?”_

That caught Midorima’s attention. Those two masked crimefighters had been gaining notoriety over the last few months as one of the most powerful—and therefore dangerous—vigilante groups out there. But no matter how powerful or notable they were, he was more than a little curious as to what might cause the media to begin calling such a lawless pair “heroes.” His eyes widened as a news story of a large-scale attack started, and he turned up the volume and began paying attention.

 _“This crime-fighting duo appeared at last night’s charity gala in the Roppongi district, just in time to save the day. An American with explosive powers somehow found his way in, and it is believed that he was planning to take out the Prime Minister. Although, with so many other important people in attendance, it’s hard to be sure who the target was,”_ a woman said on the screen before her male counterpart started to give more details.

_“The Pink Lady used her powers of telekinesis to shield guest while her companion used his lightning to fight off the attacker, injuring him enough that the police were able to safely arrest him and bring him into custody. There has been no word yet as to who he is, or his motives in trying to take out anyone at the gala.”_

_“We weren’t able to get interviews with the masked heroes, but we were able to talk briefly with Akashi Seijuurou, one of the youngest and most successful businessmen in attendance last night, who performed a little bit of heroism himself.”_

The television cut to a clip from the night before of Akashi and the on-site interviewer standing outside of the building the event was held at.

_“We’ve heard several different accounts tonight from other attendees that you played a big role in evacuating people safely, even as parts of the building began to collapse. Is this true, Akashi-san?”_

Akashi offered a charming smile to the camera. _“I was trying to do what I could to help. The vigilantes seemed to have enough to do without worrying about evacuation. I’m just happy that I was able to assist.”_

_“Does that mean you saw the vigilantes fighting up close? What was it like in there, in proximity to such dangerous and powerful people?”_

_“I honestly wasn’t that focused on them,”_ Akashi admitted. _“I was more worried about trying to get other people out of the way of the danger. From what I could see though, it certainly seemed like it was a good thing the vigilantes were there at the time. I’m sure that countless people would have died at the hands of that super-powered criminal had they not shown up.”_

The clip ended and went back to the other reporters, who wrapped up the story relatively quickly and moved on with to the next. Midorima turned the volume back down and returned to his work, but now with a slight frown of contemplation and a distracted mind.

He had never held vigilantes in very high regard. Vigilantism had been becoming more popular for decades, as superpowers slowly became a more common phenomenon, but it had always caused just as much harm as good, often interfering with police investigations and unnecessarily escalating fights with use of powers. As far as he was concerned, these two vigilantes had just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and before long they would go back to being typically useless, lawless crime-fighters like the rest of them, and the media attention would die down.

The media didn’t let go of the two vigilantes after their sudden fame though. If anything, they seemed to start loving them more, especially a few months later when they gained new members.

 _“Superhero duo now a superhero team? Their two new members seem to have shape-shifting and super strength powers. One might call them the Generation of Miracles, as the number of villains they have taken down continues to grow,”_ a news anchor proclaimed from the TV as Takao walked into Midorima’s office.

“Shin-chan, do you think I can get some stitches?” he asked, pointing at his arm that was wrapped up in what appeared to be the bottom half of his tank top, which was now a crop top thanks to Takao’s improvised bandage.

“This is the second time you’ve been in here _today_ with an injury,” Midorima said, looking at him in mild alarm. “In fact, I believe you’ve had at least one new injury almost every day this week. What are you _doing?_ ” he asked as he pointed Takao to the nearest open bed and gathered the appropriate medical supplies.

“Nothing! Well, nothing out of the ordinary. You should see the other guys,” he said as he untied his shirt bandage to show Midorima the deep cut on his bicep.  “But people are going crazy because of those . . . superheroes? Is that what they are? Whatever it is, the police are more focused on all of these people with powers, and so all of the people around here without powers are feeling like they can get away with more stuff. I’ve got more business than ever, but it’s also more dangerous. Whatever these hero people are doing, I wish they would stop. It’s making my life harder than it needs to be.”

Midorima frowned as he cleaned the wound. “That explains why I’ve had an increase in patients recently.”

The news continued in the background. _“I’m here with police chief, Imayoshi Shouichi, to talk about the recent fame of this super hero group. The police seem to be working with the Generation of Miracles, as my coworker in the studio called them. Does this mean your department approves of the superheroes?”_

 _“Well, it’s a work in progress, but yes, we are working towards a partnership with them,”_ Imayoshi explained with a polite smile. _“Lack of cooperation with the law and the police department has always been one of the biggest issues with vigilantes, but public opinion of the Generation of Miracles has been so high that it seems a waste to dismiss them out of hand. Ideally, by establishing a positive relationship between our department and their team, we can set a precedent of lawfulness among other amateur crimefighters, so we can have more ‘heroes’ instead of wild-card vigilantes in the future.”_

Midorima sighed disapprovingly at the police chief’s words. “The media may call them superheroes, but they’ll never be more than glorified vigilantes as far as I’m concerned. Their fifteen minutes of fame will blow up in their faces before they know it,” he muttered sharply, frowing.

“I don’t care what they are, I’d just like to not have to get into this many fights because of them.”

The frown remained, but now out of concern rather than irritation. “Perhaps you should lay low for a while.”

“My job doesn’t really let me do that,” Takao reminded him. “It’s not a big deal, I guess. I’m still winning the fights. It sure is an inconvenience though.”

Midorima tied off the last few stitches and taped a bandage over them in silence, and then he suggested, “Would you at _least_ consider carrying a gun?”

“Don’t need one. I told you, I’m winning the fights,” Takao said firmly. “I do have this though.” He pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Does that make you feel any better?”

“Only somewhat,” Midorima grumbled, returning to his desk to make a few notes regarding Takao’s injury in his file. After a moment, he turned to point an accusatory finger at Takao and added, “Make sure you are more diligent about keeping your phone charged, in case of emergencies.”

“Huh? My phone is fi—” Or not. He’d pulled it out to prove a point and found it was dead. “Maybe I’ll look into a portable charger.”

“Please do.”

* * *

Over the next several months, superpowered villains began cropping up with rapidly increasing frequency. The Generation of Miracles always managed to defeat them, but usually not before they’d managed to wreak plenty of havoc upon the city. Not only that, but the police force was so busy with the large-scale attacks and battles that the non-superpowered crime rate was also growing explosively, to the point where it seemed there was some sort of violence happening around every corner in their neighborhood, and Midorima began carrying his gun on his person at all times. He noticed that, for more dangerous deals, even Takao had started carrying one, despite his prior protest and his distaste for the weapon.

There was a brief lull in the near-constant violent conflicts in mid-November, which was well-timed as far as Midorima was concerned, because that meant the steady flow of patients also slowed down enough for him to close the clinic for a few hours on Takao’s birthday. Midorima had been hoping he would just show up at the office so this would be easier, but unfortunately, he seemed to have chosen today, of all days, to not make an appearance. So Midorima grabbed the small gift-wrapped package he’d had in his desk drawer for the last several days and headed out to track down Takao.

He knew the names and addresses of most of the friends with whom Takao most frequently stayed, so he began heading over to the nearest one: Kotarou. On the way, he sent a quick text to Takao, asking where he was, but he didn’t count on hearing back from him—if Takao’s phone wasn’t in his hand at any given moment, he was unlikely to reply in any sort of timely manner. As predicted, he didn’t get a reply by the time he had reached Kotarou’s apartment and rang the doorbell.

Kotarou opened the door and looked mildly surprised to see Midorima standing there. “Yo, what can I do for you?”

“Have you seen Takao recently?” Midorima asked, peering briefly over Kotarou’s shoulder to see if Takao was there… but all he saw was a large blood stain, which he really _hoped_ was not from Takao’s gunshot wound a couple of years ago, but he suspected that it was.

“Yeah, last night. He left his phone charger here. I think he’s with Aida-chan, so if you’re going to see him can you get that back to him?” Kotarou asked, already turning to get the charger.

Left his phone charger there. So his phone was probably dead. Midorima sighed and muttered, “Of _course_ he did.”

“You know where Aida-chan lives, right?” Kotarou asked, returning to the doorway and holding out a charger for Midorima.

“I do. Thank you,” Midorima answered, nodding and turning to leave. But before he began to walk away, something occurred to him, and he paused and turned back to ask, “Do you happen to know what his favorite kind of cake is?”

“Um . . . we sometimes get red velvet when we’re hungry after smoking pot, so that one probably,” Kotarou decided after a moment to think about it.

Midorima nodded his thanks and then left for Riko’s apartment, making one stop along the way. He arrived several minutes later, with both the gift-wrapped package and a small cake in a box, and knocked on the door.

Riko answered, but immediately turned around to shout into her apartment, “Kazu-kun, it’s for you!”

“For me? Who is—Shin-chan!” Takao got up from the couch and grinned at him. His eyes went wide when he noticed the boxes in Midorima’s hands. “Did you get me birthday presents?”

Midorima averted his gaze for a moment self-consciously before forcing himself to look back at Takao. “Why are you so surprised? I did last year too.”

“What? No you didn’t.” Takao’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, do you mean when you gave me my lucky item? Out of nowhere? Without mentioning my birthday at all?”

Riko covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her laughter as she watched the exchange.

“...Yes,” Midorima mumbled, feeling his face begin to heat up.

“I mean, I kept it if it makes you feel better,” Takao offered when he saw the embarrassed blush forming on Midorima’s face.

It didn’t, really, because the lucky item was useless after the day he’d given it to Takao, but Midorima chose to say nothing and instead move on with the original conversation so as to avoid further embarrassment. “This one is the present. For your birthday,” Midorima said emphatically, indicating the package in his left hand, and then the one in his right. “And this one is the cake. Also for your birthday.”

“You didn’t have to,” Takao told him, even though he was already working on the wrapping paper.

Midorima walked past them into the apartment to put the cake down on the coffee table. “Well, I did.”

“I can see that.” Takao finished opening it and his face lit up before he wrapped his arms around Midorima, still holding the box in one hand. “Thank you, Shin-chan!”

Midorima returned the hug and ducked his head to hide his smile as he said quietly, “Happy birthday, Takao.”

“What did he get you?” Riko peered into the box curiously, having to stand on her tiptoes to see. “Socks with weird patterns. Good choice.”

“One for every color used by Oha Asa,” Midorima explained, schooling his face into a stern expression and pulling back just enough to look down at Takao. “So as long as I forward your horoscope to you every morning, you have no excuse not to be wearing your lucky color every day from now on.”

“Let me just enjoy my cool socks. I like the blue ones with pink sharks best. Please don’t forward me my horoscope every morning.”

“It’s for your own good.”

“I disagree and will wear the wrong color just to spite fate,” Takao told him cheerfully, finally letting go to bounce over to the coffee table and open the cake. “Oh! My favorite!” he declared excitedly.

Midorima stood there for a moment, mouth-half open as if to protest, before his face settled into a frown.

Riko patted Midorima’s shoulder. “I don’t think you’ll ever get him on board with that Oha Asa stuff.”

“I suppose not,” he replied with a resigned sigh, “but it was worth a try.”

“Well, I mean, he still likes the socks. So I wouldn’t say it was a totally wasted effort. Maybe if you don’t send him the horoscope he’ll accidentally wear his lucky color or something.”  

Midorima paused in consideration, then nodded. “True. And most of them are multi-colored, increasing the chances of such an occurrence.” Maybe all was not lost.

“Are you guys gonna just stand there talking about me, or are you going to help me eat this cake?” Takao asked, moving a box off of the table to make room for them.

As Midorima went to sit down, he happened to catch a glimpse of the return address on the box. “Is that from Nijimura? Why haven’t you opened it yet?”

“He insisted I have to Skype him and open it on video chat. I think something’s going to jump out at me when I do,” Takao replied.

“...Or he could just want to watch his friend open the gift he sent him?” Midorima suggested, eyebrow arched.

Riko rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what Takao was about to say.

“I’m not his friend,” Takao answered with a scoff.

“They’re friends, but they will never ever admit it out loud,” Riko told Midorima. “It’s their thing.”

“We don’t have a thing.”

“Sure,” she agreed, taking a bite of cake to signal she wasn’t getting into that conversation.

Midorima was only able to stay for about an hour before he got a text from one of his regular patients regarding an emergency, and had to excuse himself. Later that night, just before he got into bed, he got a text from Takao.

_You were wrong. It was rigged for things to jump out at me. There was money at the bottom though, so I’m not even mad._

Midorima rolled his eyes and got into bed, but fell asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

As it turned out, the Generation of Miracles’ fifteen minutes of fame lasted for about a year before it began to sour. The public’s opinion of them became divided, and the dissent grew into a widespread controversy, large enough that the media was forced to acknowledge it.

_“The Generation of Miracles fight yet another villain, causing extensive damage to Sakura Street in the process. This is yet another villain that seems to have shown up just to fight the Generation of Miracles, and citizens are starting to wonder: are they doing more harm than good?”_

The news cut to a clip of a young woman being interviewed on the street. _“They seemed helpful at first, but now people are dying, and property is being destroyed because they keep fighting. I couldn’t get to work yesterday because the road was blocked off after the purple guy threw a car. No one was in it, but that’s still someone’s car that has been wrecked, and it blocked off a main highway.”_

The news cut to another clip of a reporter with Akashi Seijuurou. _“You worked with them when they first gained popularity. What are your thoughts on the controversy growing around these heroes?”_

 _“I did not work with them. I simply did what I could to evacuate people while they fought the man attacking the event,”_ Akashi said firmly with a disapproving frown on his face. _“While they were certainly helpful at the time, as soon as they started bringing more trouble to Japan they should have stepped down. They are not police, and they have no right to be breaking the law and causing so much damage to fight people that are only here because of them, especially when they refuse to show their faces. They either need to disappear or show themselves to the public. Someone has to be accountable.”_

The scene changed again to a woman clutching her husband. _“Our son was nearly killed when he was caught in the crossfire of one of their fights last month. He’s still in the hospital now. If they’re heroes, who are they saving?”_

The cameras came back to the studio. _“With all of the property damage, death, injury, rising crime rates, and blatant disregard for public safety, many are wondering who these ‘Generation of Miracles’ are saving. Someone has to be responsible for all of the harm done. How many more people have to be hurt before this superhero team does something to stop it? How can we hold anyone accountable when they hide behind masks? The question everyone seems to be asking now is: who are the Generation of Miracles? And: are they really a miracle anymore?”_

“They never were,” Midorima muttered at his TV, pressing the power button with more force than necessary. He sat at his desk with a frown in the resulting silence, staring down at his open textbooks and suddenly feeling like the remaining two years of school he had left to complete were _too long_. In the wake of all this violence, it felt all the more urgent that he had to earn his degree and become a real doctor so he could help more people.

He returned to his studies with a renewed vigor, the TV screen black and silent behind him.

In the face of all the public outcry, the heroes and the police started working to minimize damage. The police devoted an entire team to dealing with the superheroes and the supervillians, comprised of cops that also had powers that could be used to protect people. The Generation of Miracles also joined in on trying to do damage control when a new person joined their team. Well, he wasn’t really on the team, but a man named Kagami Taiga started showing up on the scenes of their fights to protect and help in rescuing people caught in the crossfire. Many people still argued that this was just a bandaid solution, but for the most part it seemed to appease the public. Until a new villain showed up nearly a year and a half later, causing devastation like nothing anyone had seen before.  


	6. Chapter 6

Takao had been waiting in line at Maji Burger to order when everyone in the fast food joint seemed to stop and look at the television playing the news on the wall. What Takao saw was... well it took a moment to figure out what he was looking at actually. Because it was the middle of summer, but that looked a hell of a lot like snow. 

And ice. Buildings were collapsing and there was blood-stained ice everywhere. There were equal amounts of people trying to run for shelter and people scattered around either dead or injured.

_ “I am live in Tokyo where an entire block in the Shinjuku prefecture is being destroyed,” _ a news anchor was saying from inside a helicopter flying over the scene.  _ “The cause seems to be a young man with some form of ice powers.” _

The cameras zoomed in on someone standing in the center of the storm. He looked to be no older than Takao, with light blue hair and a face twisted up into an expression of agony. He looked like he was screaming, but the chopper wasn’t close enough to pick that up.

_ “We are being told that we need to get off of the scene for safety reaso—”  _ The feed cut off with the sound of loud wind and sudden screams.

Everything in the restaurant was dead quiet for a moment before the television cut back to the news room.  _ “I-it looks like our on sight crew’s chopper has gone down.” _ There was a warning to stay away from the area and that was when Takao realized where all of this was happening.

“Shin-chan,” he whispered in horror before he took off out the door, running as fast as he could. It was close. It was too close. The storm could have killed Shin-chan. He could be one of the red spots amidst all the white.

He reached the doctor’s office in record time, despite almost slipping on the occasional patch of ice as he got closer, and desperately threw open the doors. “Shin-chan!” he exclaimed, out of breath. The place was filled to the brim with people in different states of injured and possibly dead, but Midorima was standing among them, clearly stressed, but fine. Close but not in the storm. Safe. He was safe. Takao thought his legs might give out from relief. “C-can I help?” he managed through gasps for air.

Hearing the sound of Takao’s voice took a heavy weight off of Midorima’s shoulders that he hadn't even realized was there. He'd been out when the incident began, had been within eyesight of it, in fact, but had sprinted back to his office as soon as he could tear his eyes away, realizing that he would be needed shortly. But it was difficult to focus on being a doctor when images of the destruction kept flashing through his head, and his hands kept shaking as he thought about the sheer  _ scope  _ of it, and he realized he had no idea where Takao was and whether or not he was safe, and he could still  _ hear _ the disaster going on in the near distance—although, with his enhanced senses, the screams and the howling wind and the trembling ground all seemed to be right outside his door.

So, it was indeed a relief for Takao to rush in, unharmed, and offering to help. He walked over when he was in between treating patients, picking up a second clipboard from his desk and scribbling on a piece of paper before handing it to him. “I need you to talk to everyone who has yet to be treated and determine whose injuries need to take priority,” he said, softly enough that those waiting to be treated would not hear. “If they are not profusely bleeding, do not have extremities discolored by hypothermia, and are able to answer these basic questions and seem cognitively sound, they can wait. Pass out rolls of bandages and pain-relieving medication and tell them to come back later.”

He turned to get back to treating the next patient, but then paused and turned back around—despite the urgency of the situation, it didn't feel quite right to have greeted Takao with nothing but curt orders. So, he reached out to put a hand on Takao’s shoulder and added, “I'm glad you’re safe.”

Takao offered a small smile. “Well, it's not like I could just die and leave you with all this work. That would be pretty rude, don't you think?” he replied. Before he got to work, he paused and added softly, “But… I'm glad you're okay, too. I was worried.”

Something about Takao’s words—his mere presence, even—brought back the warmth that had been drained out of Midorima by fear and shock and stress. He went back to work, much more focused and stable than before, determinedly blocking out the cacophony going on outside and concentrating on what he was good at—being a doctor.

Hours passed. Some patients left as quickly as they'd come in (courtesy of Takao), some stayed a while but managed to limp out by themselves, some were carried out, and some were beginning to occupy more and more space in the office, to a dangerous degree, too severely injured to move or be moved.

“You can leave if you want,” Midorima droned tiredly, sometime long after night had become morning, but before the sunrise. The flow of patients was finally beginning to slow. “I can likely handle it from here.”

“No, it's fine. I dropped a caffeine pill into my coffee two hours ago, so I'm pretty good to keep going.”

Midorima looked down at his own cup of coffee consideringly, his eyes aching with fatigue, then looked back up at Takao. “Do you have more of those pills?”

Takao laughed but nodded. “You have something I can cut one in half with? I'm not sure you should go for a full dose if this is your first time taking one, especially mixing it with something already caffeinated.”

Midorima fetched a pill cutter from his desk drawer and handed it to Takao, who cut the pill in half and dropped the smaller one into Midorima’s hand.

“Should help some. Don’t mix it with your coffee.”

He glanced at his coffee again, but grabbed a water bottle instead and gulped it down with the half-pill, muttering his thanks and then going to do another round to check on all the patients still in his office. A few more people came in over the next hour or two, but the rush seemed to finally be over around sunrise, and about an hour after that, the only patients remaining were the ones who were too badly injured to be moved yet—five occupying the beds, and five more with makeshift setups on the floor. Midorima locked the door and put up the (now edited to be more polite) closed sign Takao had written for him a few years ago, and let out a shaky sigh of relief. As he mechanically washed medical instruments and removed his blood-spattered scrubs, he felt both numb and overwhelmed at the same time, his vision blurring at the edges and his hands trembling. Exhaustion quickly overtaking him, he took one look at the stairs and decided he wasn’t ready for those quite yet, so he trudged over to the nearest wall and leaned against it, sliding down until he was sitting, staring blankly at the floor and silently willed his hands to stop shaking.

After a few minutes of looking between the wall and the door, Takao decided to join him. It would be too much effort to try to find somewhere to stay for the night—well, day, at this point. Between customers, he had managed to text all of his friends to make sure that they were okay, but he didn’t want to walk to anyone’s place, and he never bothered to try to save up for his own since staying in one place for too long was dangerous when he could just pay rent to people as he moved around. He sat down next to Midorima and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back on the wall. “Well... that was exciting,” he muttered.

“That was one of the—no,  _ the  _ most horrific thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Midorima said, eyes not moving from where they were fixed on the ground, images of the destruction flashing before him and the sounds of screaming and crashing and howling wind still echoing in his mind. “And I lost twenty-seven people today,” he added, and usually he’d try to take that kind of thing as professionally as he could, but he was just as drained emotionally as he was physically right now, and he felt his hands begin to shake again, worse this time, and he tried to stop it but found he couldn’t.

Takao’s eyes opened again at Midorima’s tone of voice and he cast a worried gaze towards him, placing a hand over one of Midorima’s shaking ones without thinking about it. “It’s not your fault they died. From what I could see, most of those people were lucky to be able to get here alive in the first place. I’m sure the death rates in actual hospitals were much higher. Whatever the hell that guy was doing, I’m pretty sure he leveled that entire block.”   

Midorima’s gaze drifted lazily from the floor to Takao’s hand on his, and he stared at that instead, something about the sight of it having an unexpected calming effect on him. When his breathing evened out and his hands stopped shaking, he managed to fully process what Takao had said and asked, “...It was a person who did all this? A  _ singular  _ person?”

Takao frowned. “Oh, you wouldn’t have seen. I was looking at it on the news from an aerial point of view, but you and everyone here would have had to have been on the edge of it to have made it out. Yeah, some guy appeared to be losing his shit at the center of all of that. I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire block, maybe more, is destroyed. The news copter flying over it went down during the report. But they zoomed in and it was just one person. No way he was any older than either of us.”

Midorima’s brow furrowed in bewilderment. “Is he in custody? Does anyone know who he is?”

“Uhhh, I can look it up. I kinda left to come make sure you were okay.” He pulled out his phone and searched. “...Kuroko Tetsuya. Not in custody. No one knows where he is,” he said after a few minutes of reading through articles.

Midorima’s jaw set into a grimace. “Were those Miracle fools there? Even they weren't able to hinder him at all?” As controversial as the team of superheroes was, no one could deny they were a powerful group. The prospect of them being bested by a single enemy was a grim one.

“Umm… Says here they arrived on the scene right before the guy vanished. The entire thing didn't last very long despite all the destruction that happened,” Takao said, still scanning for information. “Apparently they know a guy with fire powers, so that helped a little in rescuing anyone trapped by ice afterwards.”

“...I see,” Midorima muttered, nodding vaguely. Not for the first time, he wished that he had a more useful power, or was a proper doctor with a degree already, or that he had some other way to better help people, especially when large-scale incidents like this happened. Not that he’d ever seen anything quite like this before. He fell into a contemplative silence, still staring blankly down at his and Takao’s hands as his mind wandered.

“I wonder what happened to him,” Takao mused, closing his eyes again.

“I almost hope we never find out, as that would likely involve him returning,” Midorima said with a tired sigh.

“I guess, but you gotta wonder what it takes to break someone like that. What do you have to do to someone to make them annihilate an entire block of Tokyo as his first criminal act. Not even a shoplifting charge or anything before this. He just lived his life, and then one day seemed to lose it.” Takao’s head fell onto Midorima’s shoulder as tiredness started to infect his voice.

“The loss of a loved one, at the very least…” Midorima began, and may have continued to ponder out loud if he hadn’t been rather distracted by Takao’s head on his shoulder. He wasn’t really sure how to react, but it was surprisingly comforting, so in the end he just went quiet and didn’t move away.

“Yeah, probably. One hell of a grieving period,” Takao mumbled as he started to drift off.

Midorima just gave a vague hum of agreement, hearing the fatigue in Takao’s voice and feeling his own eyelids growing heavier by the second. He must have fallen asleep quite soon afterwards, because the next thing he remembered was waking up around sunset, his legs half-numb and Takao’s head in his lap.

For a moment, he felt mildly panicked, unsure of what to do, so he ended up just staring at Takao’s peaceful, sleeping face, and found he was unwilling to disturb him quite yet. And then he noticed that Takao’s hand was still on his, somehow, and that overnight they’d managed to lace their fingers together. He felt his face heating up, but also felt a tiny smile pulling at his lips as he continued looking down at Takao and holding his hand. His heart seemed to speed up as the unbidden thought crossed his mind that he wouldn’t mind waking up to something like this every day.

Takao’s eyelashes fluttered a few times before he blinked and then looked sleepily up at Midorima. “Shin-chan?”

“Hello, Takao,” he replied, his voice coming out soft and more heavy with sleep than he’d expected. He cleared his throat before adding, “I would say good morning, but it’s evening now.”

“Is it?” He turned his head and noticed the sun setting. “Oh.” And then he seemed to notice their position. “Um, sorry for holding your lap and hand hostage,” he said, sitting up and stretching a bit, missing the warmth and closeness immediately.

Midorima shrugged off the apology with a vague mutter of something like “it’s fine,” and pushed himself off the ground, checking on all the patients who had stayed the night. Upon ascertaining that they were all in stable condition, he sat at his desk and sighed. “I suppose I should get to work now.”

Takao tilted his head. “Work? You just finished checking on everyone.”

“College assignments,” Midorima answered, gesturing down at his laptop and the stack of textbooks and papers on his desk. “I  _ am  _ a full-time med student.”

“Right, right. Yeah, I’ve probably got a few deals to catch up on. I’m sure I missed several while I was here, but considering I saw two of my regulars here last night…” He shrugged. “Well, who knows how many of those deals are still happening?”

Midorima nodded thoughtfully, tone going somber. “A significant portion of the student body at my school lives in or near this district. I’m not certain how that will affect my classes.”

“You might get a few days off, but I’m the wrong person to ask what will and won’t affect things at college,” Takao replied as he headed for the door.

Midorima sat at his desk with a sigh, resigning to the fact that he’d have to at least  _ try  _ to do his schoolwork, even though he wasn’t entirely certain he’d actually be able to concentrate on it with everything that had happened in the past day. After a moment of silent contemplation, he called out to Takao’s retreating back, “Kindly take down the ‘closed’ sign on your way out. And… and be careful.”

Takao flashed a bright smile at him and did a two finger salute in acknowledgement before taking it down and walking out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we've accounted for all of the GOM. :D   
> Feel free to leave kudos and comments to help motivate me to post things on time.


	7. Chapter 7

Kuroko Tetsuya—or the Phantom, as the news had taken to calling him—didn’t stay gone for very long. Just a few weeks after his disappearance, he started showing up again and again, with his sights set on the hero team known as the Generation of Miracles. Midorima’s shop was busier than ever. People who weren’t even from the area were coming to him just to get affordable care after being caught in the crossfire of a hero and villain showdown. 

_ “The Generation of Miracles have been surrounded by controversy for a while now, but with the Phantom clearly targeting the hero group, the people are now calling for them to be more open. It seems that almost everyone has been demanding they show their faces, asking why so many innocent people should suffer for the heroes’ fight. Asking who they are suffering for. And this morning the heroes finally respond by unmasking themselves in front of a crowd.” _

The clip that had been playing on every news station since that morning flashed on the screen. Midorima looked up from his piles of schoolwork and patient files to see all four heroes removing their masks and stating their names. Something about the Blue Lightning one seemed familiar, but Midorima couldn’t put his finger on it, and he supposed it didn’t really matter either way.

_ “I understand your need for us to take responsibility,” _ the Pink Lady, now known to the public as Momoi Satsuki, said to the crowd,  _ “which is why we are taking off our masks. However, accountability won’t solve the problem. Kuroko Tetsuya is still at large, and as long as he, or any other villain, walks free on the streets, the damage will still be done. We are fighting to protect you, but if it makes you feel safer, we will do so without our masks.” _

For once, Midorima agreed with the heroes—the public’s demand for their identities was useless, as the heroes unmasking themselves wouldn’t change anything about the situation with the psychotic supervillain currently on the loose. He sighed and turned the TV off, returning to his work.

* * *

As busy as Midorima was with his schoolwork  _ and  _ the increasingly frequent influxes of patients injured in one of the many battles between the Phantom and the Generation of Miracles, his last year of med school passed surprisingly quickly. Before he knew it, he was staying up endless hours to cram in as much studying as he could in the weeks before his final exam, so the day before the test found him an uncomfortable mix of high-strung and completely exhausted.

He must have drifted off at some point, he realized, as he jolted awake suddenly at his desk, and swore upon checking the time—there was less than twenty hours to go until his final exam, he could  _ not  _ afford to take hour-long naps right now. Even though it had been over a year since the Phantom had first appeared, his attacks had not slowed down, and one of the more recent battles had cost him an entire week of studying due to the sudden influx of patients. Body heavy and aching with fatigue, Midorima pulled out his phone, beginning to feel mildly panicked and desperate as he called Takao.

_ “Heya, Shin-chan! What can I do for you? Shouldn’t you be studying for your final?” _ Takao answered. _ “Oh, hang on a second.” _ There was the sound of a small scuffle, and Takao’s voice came out more muffled and further away as he reprimanded,  _ “It is  _ rude _ to try to stab someone on the phone.”  _ There was another bit of noise and then a pained groan from someone even further away from the phone and suddenly Takao was back. _ “Hey, sorry about that, what can I do for you?” _ he said cheerfully, as if the interruption hadn’t happened.

Midorima furrowed his brow in concern, but decided to refrain from commenting, since Takao sounded uninjured, and he was far too tired to deal with that right now. Instead, he just sighed and answered, “I need more of those caffeine pills. As soon as possible.”

There was a long pause before Takao answered.  _ “Ah... no. I will, however, buy you a can of Red Bull.” _

“Takao,” Midorima said very seriously, “I have my final exam tomorrow morning at eight. I have less than a day to do a week of studying. I cannot afford to sleep between now and then. _At all._ ”

_ “Riiiiiight,”  _ Takao replied.  _ “Two cans of Red Bull then. I gotcha, Shin-chan.” _

Midorima sighed frustratedly. “Stop being an idiot; I need to study. What about... Adderall, or something? Will you bring me some of that?”

Another pause, this one longer than before at the suggestion of actual drugs.  _ “I’m not buying you three Red Bulls. That’s not healthy, Shin-chan. Take your two and be happy with it. I’ll be over in about half an hour.”  _ And then he hung up.  

Midorima frowned at his phone, then stared miserably at his stacks of textbooks and notes, debating what he should study in the short time he had before Takao arrived. Within a minute, his eyes were drooping shut and he was drifting back to sleep.

“Shin-chan~ Wake up~ I brought you energy drinks~” Takao gently shook Midorima’s shoulder when he walked in.

Not having realized he’d fallen asleep, Midorima awoke with a start, pushing backwards from his desk with the intent to stand up and figure out what had awoken him. However, that only set him off-balance, and as he began to fall backwards in his chair, he flailed around in an attempt to save himself, but only managed to knock several books off of his desk and hit Takao in the face before he landed on the floor, where he lay groaning from both fatigue and pain.

“Wow.” After a moment Takao put down the cans and clapped. “Quite the show, Shin-chan. I think maybe you should get some sleep.” He picked up one of the cold cans again and held it up to his cheek to try and numb it, even though the slap hadn’t really hurt.

“No,” Midorima answered simply. Not even bothering to get up off the floor yet, he held a hand out to Takao. “Caffeine, please.”

Takao passed him the can wordlessly, amusement still clearly written on his features.

Midorima opened it and turned his head so he could take several large gulps of the drink, then grimaced. “That’s disgusting,” he said, but continued to take a few more sips before slowly pushing himself into a sitting position.

“I got two different flavors in case you didn’t like the first one,” Takao offered.

Midorima scoffed. “...Thoughtful of you,” he said wryly, then finished chugging the drink in his hand, tossing it into the recycling bin across the room. He blinked as he felt his heart jump and begin to beat faster, but his eyelids still felt heavy as he looked back at Takao. “Though I doubt that a different flavor will make it taste less like chalk.”

“Here you go.” He held it out to him. “You can see for yourself if you like it better or not.”

Midorima opened it, took a sip, and grimaced again as he set it down on the desk, finding it to be equally disgusting. Glancing at the books scattered on the floor, he took a moment to gather his willpower, and then finally got to his feet to begin picking them up. “This day’s misfortune was fated,” he said as he stacked the books back on his desk. “Cancers were second-to-last in luck today, and I was unable to locate my lucky item.” He sighed, then looked over at Takao as something occurred to him, some small bit of intensity sparking in his eyes, “Scorpios were first in luck today, though. And your lucky color is black.” He nodded at Takao’s black sweatshirt. “...This clearly means you are meant to study on my behalf.”

“Ummm. I don't think that would help you much since I can't take the test for you, but I'll help quiz you if you want,” he offered, perching himself on the corner of Midorima’s desk.

Midorima looked up at Takao, eyebrows raised in mild, appreciative surprise. He considered it for a moment, but ended up shaking his head. “No. Thank you for the offer, but I study better alone.” As he spoke, something else occurred to him. “...However, if you would be willing to lend me your assistance in another way… I would feel much more at ease if I did have my lucky item,” he suggested.

Takao rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yeah, okay. What am I looking for?”

“...Adderall.” Midorima fully blamed his impulsive lie on the unprecedented state of desperation and sleep deprivation in which his upcoming exams had left him.

“Bye, Shin-chan. I’m not starting your drug habit.” Takao waved and started walking towards the door.

Midorima reached out to grab his wrist, almost falling off his chair again in the process. “I apologize,” he said, feeling increasingly self-conscious. “That was… a joke, of sorts. In rather bad taste. My  _ true  _ lucky item is...” He adjusted his glasses with his free hand and wracked his memory… only to come up blank. “...I seem to have forgotten. I may not have been entirely conscious while checking my reading this morning.”

Takao sighed and pulled out his phone, looking up the fortune site. He scrolled until he found Cancer and then he started laughing. A lot. “G-good news, Shin-chan,” he managed between laughs. “You don’t need to look for a lucky item.”

“What do you mean?” Midorima asked, brow furrowed in confusion. “Of course I do; my chances of failing are likely to increase exponentially without it.”

Takao laughed a little longer before he managed to tell him. “‘A person born under the Scorpio sign.’ Your lucky item is me.”

Midorima stared at Takao for a moment, mouth slightly agape as he processed what he’d said. “...I see,” he said, and suddenly he  _ did  _ remember checking Oha Asa that morning. He only got little bits and pieces of memory—some involved tears, which was concerning, but he figured they must have been tears of mirth, considering Takao still seemed to be suppressing fits of laughter. “Then… in that case, I would greatly appreciate your company.”

Takao nodded. “Sure, Shin-chan. I wouldn’t want you to fail because of me.” He still thought the lucky item stuff was dumb, but there was no way Midorima would listen to him in this state, and Takao kinda found him funny like this anyway, so he probably would have stuck around for a while as it was.

The next several hours passed, largely in tedium, with the occasional interruption for food or snippets of conversation. Knowing that he had his lucky item with him now, Midorima did feel the familiar comfort and security of it… but the studying still exhausted him, like every step he took was combated by a fierce headwind. It was sometime in the middle of the night—he pointedly did  _ not  _ look at the clock—when the caffeine had completely worn off and the stress began to really get to him.

“This is _ridiculous,_ ” he said, slamming his pencil down on the desk. “I have never had this much difficulty studying for an exam. _Never._ I have my lucky item and everything; I don't understand what I'm doing wrong.” He hid his face in his hands, rubbing his temples tiredly. “It’s as though… there is some part of my brain that _wants_ me to fail.”

Takao had felt about ready to pass out, but jumped and felt fully awake again at the sound of the pencil being slammed down, looking at Midorima with wide eyes. “I think you’re worrying too much. I’m sure you’ll do fine. You’re already a great doctor after all.”  

Midorima appreciated the reassurance, he really did, but he shook his head frustratedly. “But none of this”—he gestured vaguely at the entire office—“really  _ counts  _ toward anything, academically speaking. Certainly, it has been good experience, and has lowered my amount of student debt considerably, but…” Many good and bad memories flashed before his eyes as his gaze wandered around the room. “It’s just so… temporary. I—” His eyes settled on Takao, and he cut himself off as he had a rather unpleasant realization. “...Oh,” he said quietly after a moment, averting his gaze.

Takao could see the moment it hit Midorima: their relationship was temporary as well. Midorima would graduate and move on to become a doctor, and Takao would stay where he was. It was something of which Takao was very aware, and a large part of why he wouldn't try to move their relationship past friendship. “I mean, yeah, you can't put it on your application to anything, but I meant that you already know most of what you probably need to know for that test because of this. You always seem to know what you're supposed to do when people come in sick or injured. Why wouldn't you know on your test?”

Midorima was far too tired to be thinking about this rationally, that was the only reason he was suddenly feeling so upset—or so he told himself, biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt to quell the emotions before he spoke. “I… yes, theoretically, I should be thoroughly prepared for this exam, with all the experience and studying I've done thus far. But…” He looked back at Takao with a searching gaze, feeling increasingly lost, and perhaps attempting to anchor himself in comfort and familiarity. “...How much studying am I supposed to do in order to prepare to leave behind what truly matters to me?”

Takao pushed away the thought that Midorima was talking about him and made himself think that it was about the clinic. Because even if it was about him, Midorima was still leaving. “Probably not this much. You need to sleep some, or you won't do good on the test. I'll stay here and wake you up if you agree to get some rest.”

Midorima stared, half considering Takao’s words and half studying him, feeling that there was something in the heavy melancholy of this moment that he wanted to memorize before he let it go. Eventually, he sighed in relent. “I suppose I am as prepared as I can possibly be at this point.”

* * *

Midorima gave Takao a time to wake him up, but it turned out he hadn’t needed to—at six in the morning, the Oha Asa app on his phone went off, and he almost fell out of his chair again, having fallen asleep at his desk. He managed to stay in his chair though, glaring at his phone as a cheerful voice read him his daily horoscope.

“First in luck today is Cancer! Your lucky item is a stuffed cat, and your lucky color is orange!” Midorima’s glare softened, relieved at having such a good ranking today, and an item that would be relatively easy to obtain. He waited to hear Scorpio’s… only to hear with dread that Takao was ranked last in luck, with green as his lucky color and a person under the Cancer sign as their lucky item. He turned around to see Takao —awake and lounging on one of the beds nearby— reading another one of his medical text books. “Takao. Don’t go anywhere until I return from my exam.”

“Huh?” Takao said with a frown, looking up from the book. “I have a meeting. I can’t just stay here all day.”

“A meeting with whom?” Midorima asked, even more concerned.

Takao was sure that his answer wasn’t going to help Midorima’s concern, but he decided to be honest anyway. “Haizaki. We meet up sometimes.”

“Wha—for  _ what?” _ Midorima asked, bewildered, then shook his head. “That’s beside the point—don’t go without me. Unless you know someone else under the Cancer sign.”

“Shin-chan, until you told me, I didn’t even know what  _ my  _ sign was. I think I’ll be fine. I mean, high off my ass, but fine.”

“You could  _ die _ ,” Midorima said, still very serious. “At  _ least  _ wear something green.”

“I won’t die.” Takao rolled his eyes. “Honestly, us meeting is more of a formality than anything. We aren’t friends or anything like that, but we are both dealers trying not to get on each other’s bad sides, because we both know people the other doesn’t want to mess with, and we sometimes help each other out with shipments in return for owed favors—that’s how I got him to help you out that one time. I think part of why we get stoned together is because it’s the only way we can stand to be around each other.”

Midorima took a moment to process that, nodded—albeit dubiously—and then turned to search for something in one of his desk drawers. “Still, you simply cannot leave the outcome of this situation up to chance,” he insisted, pulling out a scrap of green ribbon and standing up to approach Takao. “Give me your wrist.”

“You want me to wear a ribbon?” Takao arched an eyebrow.

Midorima’s expression remained stern. “Other options include a bandage colored green with a marker or borrowing a shirt.”

“I’ll borrow the shirt,” he decided.

So, Midorima—who, of course, owned at least one article of clothing in every color for this exact purpose—fetched a plain green t-shirt from his closet and gave it to Takao. “Wear this for the  _ whole day.  _ And be careful.”

“Yes, yes, Shin-chan.” He took the shirt from him and changed into it, throwing his original shirt to Midorima in the process. “I’ll get that back when I bring this back to you, I guess,” he said, looking down at the new shirt. It was a bit big on him, but he’d worn worse fits before he’d begun making enough money to properly afford clothes.

Midorima caught the shirt, mildly distracted for a moment by the lingering warmth in the fabric, and then nodded at Takao. “I will see you later on then. Don’t die.”

“Don’t plan on it.” Takao headed towards the door, before remembering something. “Also, I would have been fine.” He lifted his pants leg to show a green sock. “Extra prepared, I suppose. Good luck on your test.”

* * *

After all the final projects and papers and exams had been done and passed, a profound relief pervaded Midorima’s entire being, which, combined with the deeply-ingrained routines of the last few years, led to him operating the clinic as usual for almost two weeks afterwards. It wasn’t until he attended his actual graduation ceremony that he started truly realizing how much everything was about to change. And it wasn’t until he finalized his residency with a nearby hospital and signed the lease on his new apartment that he began to make actual plans for closing up the clinic.

Of course, he’d  _ thought  _ about the details and logistics of doing so, but implementing them was another story. He couldn’t let on to any of his clients that he was leaving—many of them had connections to people who could and would stop him from leaving, or retaliate in some other way, and he just couldn’t take that chance. He had to disappear suddenly, with no one suspecting anything or knowing where he had gone. So he set a date for his disappearance, ran the clinic completely normally up until that date, and then packed everything as quickly as he could the night before.

...It wasn’t until Takao showed up early the next morning with an injury that needed treating that Midorima realized he’d completely neglected to let him in on this plan—and he wasn’t quite sure whether that had been entirely on accident. He gathered the supplies to stitch the wound shut and began the procedure as though it was just another ordinary day, his mind racing in the meantime, trying to figure out the best way to handle this situation.

Takao flinched as he felt every puncture and pull of the needle through his skin. “You know, I bring you anesthetic. It would be nice of you to use some on me,” he complained.

“Deal with it. It won’t kill you,” Midorima deadpanned, though he might have been a little more gentle with his next stitch. After a moment of silence, he hesitantly offered some explanation. “I’ve packed up most of my equipment at this point; I only took out what was absolutely necessary for your treatment.”

Takao’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing. “Packed up? Is it really time to go already? You didn’t tell me.” As he glanced around he did notice that the place was far emptier than usual. He’d been distracted by the cut in his leg when he’d first come in, so it hadn’t occurred to him. 

Midorima continued focusing on the stitches, suddenly quite grateful for the excuse to not meet Takao’s gaze. “It… must have slipped my mind. I apologize.” He paused to finish a knot and then added, “This place will be cleared out in the next few hours.”

“...You were just going to leave? Without saying anything?” Takao asked quietly.

Midorima glanced up at him upon hearing the softer tone, and immediately regretted it, feeling a pang in his heart, even as he looked back down. “...I just did, didn’t I?” he murmured evasively.

“Yeah, because I showed up unexpectedly with an injury. Would you have told me if I hadn’t?” He couldn’t even sound angry. He tried, but it just came out sad and a little lost.

_ No. Because I didn’t want to say goodbye.  _ Even just thinking that made Midorima’s hands begin to tremble, so he avoided the question out loud—he needed his hands steady at the moment. “...Kindly hold all further inquiries until after the procedure is finished.”

“Right. Yeah, sure.” He tried to brush it off, but his voice broke halfway through.

Midorima tensed at the sound of Takao’s voice, accidentally pulling the thread taut before he was ready and creating a single uneven stitch. He frowned down at it, guilt knotting in his chest, and he took a deep breath to calm himself as best he could so he could finish the last few stitches properly. Afterwards, he bandaged the wound, cleaned his tools, and began packing them up along with the rest of his equipment. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but now that the stitches were done, the silence was beginning to feel increasingly heavy, so he broke it hesitantly. “I apologize; there may be a bit more scarring than usual due to a small mistake on my part.”

“It’s fine. I’ve got this one right above it that'll keep anyone from noticing a new one.” Takao hiked his pants up a bit higher to show off the scar. “Have I told you about this one yet? I think you’ve asked.”

“...No, you haven’t,” Midorima replied, suddenly wary.

“Alright, so, there was this one time where I got a cut on my leg, right? And it needed stitches, but I didn't have anything to use. Or, I thought I didn't until I found some floss and a broken piece of a knife.” Takao gestured at the scar. “And thus, this happened.”

Midorima stared at him for a moment, aghast. “...The image of you giving yourself floss sutures with a shard of scrap metal will haunt my nightmares.” He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of said image.

“Well, now you know. Consider it a goodbye present.”

“...That’s not a very good present,” Midorima said with a frown, picking up a roll of bandages nearby to continue putting them away.

Takao suddenly wasn’t meeting Midorima’s gaze. “And I didn't get a very good goodbye.”

Midorima paused just before he’d been about to turn away, instead clenching the bandages in his fist as he continued looking at Takao. The hurt on Takao’s face was clear, even without meeting his gaze, so it was both the increasing guilt and the sudden pressure of  _ this is it, this is the last time, this is my last chance _ that finally pushed Midorima to speak. “Thank you. For helping me,” he began disjointedly, slowly gaining momentum as he went. “For helping me run this office, and for teaching me how to properly use a gun, and for making me learn to defend myself.” He began stepping forward slowly. “Thank you for helping me make it through all these years of school. I imagine they would not have been nearly so bearable were it not for your company—your friendship,” he amended as he stood right in front of Takao, grabbing one of his hands, pressing the roll of bandages into it, and looking into Takao’s eyes intently. “Please take care of yourself.”

For a long moment Takao was rendered speechless, eyes wide and lips parted slightly in shock at Midorima’s words. He still couldn't figure out what to say so he pulled Midorima close instead, holding him in a tight hug. “I'm going to miss you.”

It was barely a whisper, but Midorima’s sensitive ears picked up every word, as well as every bit of sincere emotion in his voice. He wrapped his arms around him, tightly, protectively, as though maybe if he held on long enough he wouldn't have to say goodbye. “I will miss you as well,” he replied just as softly, trying very hard not to let  _ This is the last time  _ become a mantra in his head, because if he did, he might cry, and that was  _ not  _ something he wanted to do right now.

“I feel pretty special, being your first and last patient here. You'll do great as a real doctor. If you can keep me alive this long, and handle the aftermath of the Phantom with only one person helping you, working in a hospital will be nothing. You'll probably be the best doctor there,” Takao said into Midorima’s shoulder, clutching his shirt to keep his hands from shaking.

Midorima smiled a little despite himself. “Indeed; I'm quite certain I will never encounter another patient as  _ special  _ as you,” he said, intending it as something of a joke, but it didn't have quite the cheering effect he'd hoped it would. Instead, another thought ended up resurfacing, one he'd been kicking around in his mind for a while, and, well… there was really no better time to bring it up, was there? “Come with me,” he blurted, feeling his face begin to heat up immediately afterwards.

Takao looked up in surprise, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He kept his arms around Midorima though, not quite willing to let go yet. “I'm not a doctor, Shin-chan. They'd kick me out if I tried to go to the hospital with you.”

Midorima leaned back just enough to look down at him, heart racing nervously at the proximity of their faces, but he continued determinedly. “No, that isn't what I—you don't have to be a doctor. Just let me help get you off the streets,” he insisted. “I'll be making more money, I can help you. Just… just come with me.”

Takao almost said yes. He almost let himself do it, but stopped himself at the last second. He was a dealer and an addict, and those weren’t the types of people that doctors were supposed to hang out with. There was a strong chance that he’d end up hurting Midorima’s career that he’d been working so hard for over the past few years. And Takao couldn’t do that to him.  _ God _ he wanted to stay with Midorima, but he’d only be holding him back. “I don’t think I can take you up on that, but thank you. It means a lot that you care enough to offer, Shin-chan.”

Midorima stared at Takao with a slight frown, uncertain as to why he would refuse. He opened his mouth, wanting to demand  _ why not _ and to insist again, but after a moment closed it —he knew how stubborn Takao was. It was futile to argue. So instead, he just gave a small nod. “Then at least do me the favor of keeping yourself alive,” he implored. A small smile pulled at his lips as he added, “As difficult a task that may be, I daresay I have gained enough confidence in your abilities to entrust you with it.”

Takao’s eyebrows shot up. “Really now? I didn't think I’d ever see the day. I'll certainly try to stay alive then,” he replied. “I  _ am _ thinking of charging whoever takes over as doctor more just for not being you, though. What do you think?”

It took Midorima a moment to pull himself out of the strange, heavy mood that had overtaken them, but after a second, he managed a scoff. “I think that’s incredibly rude.” He paused. “But not entirely unwarranted. Especially if the extra money is put to good use,” he conceded with a nod.

Takao laughed. “Only you would call illegal drug dealing rude, Shin-chan.”

“Well, you can’t possibly say it’s an inaccurate assessment of the activity,” Midorima replied, emotionally conflicted as he watched Takao—the sound of his laugh and the way his eyes lit up made him smile, but knowing that he wasn’t going to get to see that every day anymore made his heart go cold and his smile fade a little.

“Don’t you go looking sad on me. If you get sad, I’ll get sad, and no one wants to see that,” he said, using his pointer fingers to push Midorima’s lips up into a smile again.

Midorima’s immediate reaction was to grab Takao’s wrists to pull them away from his face, which involved removing his arms from around his shoulders, and just like that, there was space between them again. Not much—a couple of inches at most—but now, the only thing connecting them was Midorima holding Takao’s wrists, and he found himself suddenly reluctant to let go. After several long moments of silence stretched between them, Midorima felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and that brought him back into reality, reminding him that his family would be waiting for him at his new apartment by now, wondering why he wasn’t there yet. “I…” he began hesitantly, and found he had to look down at their hands before he could finish the sentence. “I should go.”

“R-right. Of course.” Takao pulled him into another tight hug. “Take care of yourself. Good luck out there, Shintarou.”

Midorima was taken aback by the use of his full first name, his heart skipping a beat, and he held the hug long enough to regain control over his facial expression. “Best of luck to you as well,” he said as he pulled away gently and grabbed the bag he’d packed with the last of his remaining possessions in the office. He checked the room one last time to make sure he’d gotten everything, but after that, he couldn’t really make any more excuses for staying longer, so he went to leave, only pausing briefly in the doorway to look back one more time. “Goodbye, Kazunari.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Alright, time for an intervention.” Riko picked up the television remote and turned it off.

“For what? I’m just sitting here.” Takao reached for the remote but she tossed it to Koutarou.

“Exactly. The moping needs to stop.” 

“What?”

“You’ve been sitting there for hours,” Kotarou said, following Riko over and perching on the arm of the sofa. “ _Moping_. For hours.”

“And you’re not even high, so you don’t have the drugged out-of-it excuse,” Riko added.

Takao’s eyes lit up and he sat up a bit. “That’s the solution! I’ll just get super fucking trashed and then I won’t feel like moping.”

“So you admit there has been moping.”

“I’m down for this plan though,” Kotarou said eagerly, also brightening up and looking at Riko. “Can we just do that and call things good? I don’t like interventions.”

Riko rolled her eyes and ignored him, still addressing Takao. “Shower first. You’re gross from just sitting around on my couch all the time. Don’t you have a job or something you need to be doing?”

Takao shrugged. “Don’t know. Phone’s been dead for like a week.”  

“Charge your phone while you shower,” Riko ordered, pulling Takao up by his ear.

“Ow! Hey! I can do it by myself!” he protested, but she just continued pulling him towards the bathroom.

There was a _thump_ , a yelp of pain, a slamming door, and the sound of the shower starting up before Riko returned with Takao’s phone in hand, connecting it to a charger. “I think that should do it,” she told Koutarou.

“So… intervention over?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah. Can you make some food? I don’t think he’s eaten anything other than junk food for two days.”

“Why do _I_ have to—oh, right,” Koutarou realized with a snicker. “Your cooking would probably kill him.”

From inside the shower, Takao heard muffled shouting, and poked his head out of the bathroom to find Koutarou in a headlock. “Um . . . I’m gonna go back to my shower. Try not to die."

* * *

“Shintarou! You’re early!” Shizuko exclaimed, throwing her arms around Midorima. “I’ve gotten taller, can you tell?”

“I last saw you less than a month ago, so I’m going to say no,” Midorima replied dryly, but returned his sister’s hug.

She frowned up at him. “But I’ve grown half a centimeter since then.”

“I’m sure you did,” he said agreeably, patting her head and beginning to move past her through the entryway of his family’s house to greet his parents.

For all the teasing and heckling he tended to get whenever he visited, Midorima couldn’t deny that a simple meal with his family filled him with a sense of contentment and relief that he hadn’t felt in a while. After so many long shifts in a new workplace, and so many stiflingly quiet stretches of time alone in a new apartment, the familiarity and warmth of family was much-needed.

It wasn’t until later, while he and Shizuko were cleaning up after dinner, that the quiet emptiness began to creep back in. He stood beside his sister at the sink, her bubbly, chattering voice layered over the running water, the clinking dishes, and the sounds of the TV and their parents’ laughter drifting in from the living room—all of which created a familiar, nostalgic scene, but no longer provided the comfort he’d felt earlier. Instead, it just seemed to serve as a reminder of all the things he didn’t currently have in the new life he was trying to build himself.

He tried to pay attention to what his sister was saying, even as whatever had been buoying his mood and energy until now slowly faded, but it must have shown on his face, because eventually Shizuko paused for a long moment and turned to look at him.

“You know, you don’t seem as happy as you used to be,” she said with a hint of uncertainty.

Midorima froze in the middle of drying a plate.

...Which he instantly regretted, because that seemed to be all the confirmation Shizuko needed. She continued, her tone more matter-of-fact now, “Last time you were here, I kind of figured it was because you were still getting used to your residency. But it’s been more than a month now. Shouldn’t you be more excited now that you’re working in a hospital like you wanted to?”

The question struck directly at the core of all the things Midorima tried not to think about, and he had to put in a conscious effort to resume drying the plate with slower, more deliberate movements as he internally debated what to say. He hated talking about feelings, but he also hated the way Shizuko got when she knew he wasn’t telling her something. And she _always_ knew.

He put down the plate he was holding, taking the next dish she handed him to dry and starting on that before he spoke. “I _am_ happy to be working at the hospital. I’ve been working for years to get where I am now, to shape my life the way I wanted it to be,” he began firmly, then paused and continued more hesitantly. “However… dramatic change is seldom entirely good or entirely bad. For every gain, there is a chance of an unforeseen loss. Which—well, that is simply the way things are.”

For at least a minute she just looked at him. “Were you dating someone? Did they dump you? You remind me of Kimi after her boyfriend broke up with her last month.”

A furious blush immediately tinged his face red as he turned to shoot a glare at her. “What—why would you just _assume_ —” he stuttered indignantly, only to cut himself off upon making eye contact. “No. And no,” he said with a huff.

“Did you get rejected then?”

“ _No_ ,” he repeated, now glaring down at the dish in his hands, which he continued wiping angrily despite the fact that it was quite dry by now.

“Then what’s wrong with you?” she asked, tilting her head and passing him another dish to dry so that he wouldn’t break the one he was holding.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” he tried, his voice robotic and curt. Realizing quickly how unconvincing that would be, he amended, “I will be fine.”

She frowned at him, but nodded, accepting the answer and deciding that she’d press next time if he didn’t get better.

* * *

“So, where’s your doctor been?” Takao’s first deal of the day asked.

“No clue. Maybe he died,” he replied. If Midorima didn’t want everyone to know where he was, Takao wasn’t going to share either.

“For your sake, I hope a new one comes around before someone can kill you.”

Takao’s eyes narrowed, and his hand shot out to catch the guy’s wrist before he could lunge forward with the knife he’d been hiding under his sleeve. “If I can make it back to a doctor, you didn’t do a good job of killing me,” he answered.

He made it to his next appointment, ironically enough with the new doctor in town, with only a small cut on his chest, but in a white shirt it looked worse than it was. “What can I do for you?”

The doctor eyed the bloodstain for a brief moment. “Get in a fight?” he asked disinterestedly as he began writing a list on a scrap of paper.

“Yep,” Takao answered curtly, eyeing the list to get an idea of how much trouble it was going to be to get together. It looked far less complex than Midorima’s first order. Which made his life easier, but didn’t speak very highly of how much work this man wanted to put in for his patients.

“Well, you seem to be in no danger of dying, so I’d like to have all of this as quickly as possible,” he said, holding the list out to Takao. “I want to be up and running by the end of the week.”

“Well that’s unfortunate, because it’ll take at least a week to get all of this,” Takao told him, barely glancing at it.

The doctor clicked his tongue in frustration. “Fine,” he agreed reluctantly, his voice stone cold. “See you in a week.” And with that he returned to unpacking a box across the room.

Takao took his phone out, halfway through typing out _The new doctor is an asshole_ before he remembered that he was going to leave Midorima alone. He was going to give him his new start with the career that he’d been dreaming of for years. He sighed and deleted the message, putting his phone away.

* * *

Halfway through Midorima’s first graveyard shift at the hospital, he was informed that his next patient had sustained several lacerations and a fractured radius from falling down the stairs while under the influence. Treating the injuries was fairly routine, until he happened to spot the mangled finger on the patient’s left hand.

“Did you… try to stitch your own finger?” he asked, voice carefully kept even, as flashbacks of all of Takao’s horrendous self-treatment ran through his head.

The patient—an adolescent, couldn’t have been older than sixteen—answered very matter-of-factly, “I had to stop the bleeding.”

It grew increasingly difficult for Midorima to keep his voice professional as he examined the finger and observed, “This couldn’t have been worse than a paper cut before you stuck a needle into it.”

“That’s what it was! But now it hurts more than before.” He frowned down at it.

“Because you tried to stitch it yourself and made it worse, and now it’s infected,” Midorima explained with forced patience.

The teenager went pale. “Are you going to have to cut off my finger?”

“No,” Midorima said to assure him so he wouldn’t panic, then narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you still high?”

“Yes.” And then he pointed finger guns at Midorima. “On life.”

Midorima’s urge to slam his own head against the nearest wall hadn’t been this strong since he’d left the old clinic. _I can never escape the idiots._

Several hours later, when he finally got home, he shuffled directly to his room, pulled the curtains shut against the newly-risen sun, and fell into his bed with a sigh of relief. He grabbed his phone and made sure to set several alarms so he wouldn’t sleep all day long. Before he put his phone down, a thought occurred to him, and he began to type out a brief message.

_As it turns out, there are idiots just like you at the hospital, so you can rest assured that I continue to suffer_

But before he could finish the message, he noticed the date on the last text he had received from Takao—it was several weeks ago, the day Midorima had left. And then Midorima reasoned—as he deleted the message slowly, letter by letter—that, if Takao had wanted to keep in contact, he would have sent something else by now. Once the message was gone, he set his phone down on his nightstand and firmly pushed away thoughts of the past so that he could try to find sleep. (It eluded him for over an hour anyway.)

* * *

Some days, Midorima managed to convince himself that he had come to terms with his life, and found peace and happiness in his quiet moments of downtime. Some days, he lay awake at night contemplating every mistake he had ever made, and wishing there existed such a thing as a reset button for life. But after a while, he spent most days balanced in a sort of limbo, in which the main goal was to make it to the end of the day, in the hopes that each day he got through would bring him closer to knowing which way was the right way.

It was on a perfectly average day that fate tipped the balance—Cancers were sixth in luck, and Midorima had his lucky item (a marble) tucked safely in his pocket, and was wearing his lucky color (blue) in his socks. He was expecting nothing out of the ordinary during his shift at the hospital, until a passing nurse informed him, “Midorima-san, your personal phone has been ringing downstairs. The caller ID says that it's someone called ‘Takao Kazunari.’”

Midorima’s eyes widened, his heart skipped a beat, and he was almost embarrassed by just how quickly he rushed down four flights of stairs to check his phone. It had been over six months since he’d begun his residency, and he hadn’t seen or heard anything at all from Takao the entire time. Before he could decide what to do, the phone started ringing again, so he answered it. “Hello?” he said uncertainly.

 _“Shin-chan!”_ Takao greeted, but his voice was strained. _“I … I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to call, even though I didn't want to bother you since you got yourself out of here.”_

“What happened?” he demanded, maybe a bit more harshly than he intended. Hearing Takao’s voice after so long had caught him off guard, and emotional surprises were his least favorite kind.

_“I'm, um, not entirely sure. I know I got stabbed, I think I'm dying, but I don't know why. I was having a bit of a bad trip off of… God, I don't even know what, and I thought this was just part of it, but I'm coming down and I'm still bleeding, Shin-chan.”_

Midorima gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. The idea of Takao dying was something he had faced as a possibility quite often over the years, but every time he came close, it only served to remind him how very unprepared he was to deal with it actually happening. Even after this long without seeing him. “You goddamned _idiot_ —how—” He paused and took a breath to calm himself. “Do you know where you are?”

There was the sound of shuffling and a hiss of pain as Takao shifted to try and look around himself to figure out where he was. _“Um… Do you remember where we met? I'm like a block away from that.”_

Midorima remembered that day quite vividly, but it took him a moment to remember the exact address. As he grabbed a pen and jotted it down, he asked, “A block in which direction?”

There was a long moment of silence as he tried to think about the question. _“West… ish?”_

Midorima noted that. “I'm sending an ambulance,” he said curtly. “Don't move. Don't lie to the EMTs; tell them if you remember what drugs you were taking—”

 _“No! Shin-chan, I'll go to jail! Cops show up to things where people were stabbed, and they don't really like people with my profession,”_ Takao protested, his voice coming out weaker than he wanted it to.

“Tell _one_ lie to the EMTs,” Midorima amended. “Tell them you hurt yourself while high, we don't have to call the police for accidents, or for consumption of illegal substances.” He paused. “Perhaps remove any from your person, though, we might call for possession.”

 _“Can't you just come handle it?”_ Takao pleaded. _“I've still got stuff on me and I don't think I can move enough to actually hide it.”_

“Just toss it aside; the EMTs are more concerned with your life than your immediate surroundings,” Midorima snapped impatiently. “...And so am I,” he added with a touch more worry and urgency. “Without knowing the extent of your injuries, an ambulance is your best bet for staying alive, and for keeping us both out of trouble.” With that, he hung up and dialed dispatch for an ambulance, giving them the address and a description of Takao.

Takao stared at his phone for a moment before struggling to make himself move enough to hide the drugs he still had with him. He still felt the instinctive need to run when he heard sirens, but he couldn't do that right then; he wasn’t even sure if he’d still be conscious by the time they reached him.

It appeared that he did end up passing out, because he woke up in a brightly lit room. It took a few times blinking to adjust to the light before he noticed that he wasn’t actually alone in the room. “Hey, Shin-chan. Long time no see,” he said weakly.

Having been monitoring Takao's vitals meticulously, Midorima had anticipated Takao would regain consciousness soon. “Whatever the hell you were on, don't do it again. Ever.”

“Only so much one can do to not take something when they don’t know what it is that they took, Shin-chan,” Takao answered. “Although, after that, I think that I’ll be going clean.”

Midorima nodded. “Good. You’ll live longer that way,” he said as he jotted down a few notes on Takao’s file and made a small adjustment to his IV drip.

Takao stayed quiet for a few minutes before speaking up again. “I’m sorry for calling you. I know you didn’t want to be a part of any of this anymore.”

“That office and everything I had to do to run it are all parts of my past that I can throw away. You, on the other hand, are _not_ ,” Midorima began, not really sure why he had to explain this to Takao, as he’d thought it had been somewhat obvious. “You dying is unacceptable. I will not allow it, not then, and not now.”

Takao’s lips quirked into a small smile at Midorima’s words. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special, Shin-chan. But really, thank you for helping me.”

“Someone has to, since you don't seem to have any regard for your own well-being,” Midorima grumbled, ignoring the way his face was heating up at Takao’s words.

“I have _some_ regard. I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t.”

“Another few minutes and you would likely have died, so it's a good thing you did call,” Midorima replied, glancing at Takao’s now-bandaged wound with a grimace. His expression softened, though, as he looked back up at Takao’s face and added in a quieter voice, “It’s good to see you again.”

Takao smiled at him. “It's good to see you too, Shin-chan. I wish it didn't involve me almost dying after you said you actually trusted me with my own life, but oh well.”

Midorima nodded in agreement, then paused for a moment before speaking. “...My offer still stands, you know.” And he hoped that he would take it this time—he didn't want the next time he saw Takao to be another fatal injury, or worse, death.

“Can I...” Takao paused to try and put the words together in his head. “Can I answer that when I’m not on morphine and still a little out of it from whatever drugs you used while patching me up?”

It wasn't a “no,” so Midorima allowed the spark of hope that lit up inside of his chest, and nodded silently in response. He stood up to make a few more slight adjustments to Takao’s IVs, noted them in his file, and then gathered his things. “I have a few more patients to attend to at the moment, but I will return before I leave for the day,” he said, heading for the door. “Try to get some rest.”

* * *

When Midorima returned, Takao was asleep. Having been so seriously injured, he really needed the rest, so Midorima tried waiting to see if he'd wake up of his own accord. But after twenty minutes, he decided to just wake him up with a gentle hand on his shoulder, repeating his name a couple of times.

Takao’s eyes slowly opened and he looked up sleepily at Midorima. “Shin-chan?” he mumbled.

“Hello, Takao,” he replied with a small, brief smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got stabbed, but I'm guessing the answer you're looking for is no worse than when you left earlier today.”

Midorima nodded. “That's good to hear. Has your mind cleared up at all?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you lowered my morphine before you left earlier.” He'd been able to tell very quickly after years of taking drugs. “Is that ethical? To lower patients’ pain meds on their first day back in consciousness? I mean, I'm fine, but I don't want you in trouble.”

Midorima gave him a funny look. “It's fine, seeing as you are clearly no longer in any immediate danger of dying,” he said, brushing off Takao’s concern. “And anyway, are you really in any position to be questioning the legality and ethics of _my_ decisions?” he added with raised eyebrows.

Takao nodded a bit. “I absolutely am. You're a law-abiding citizen now. I've gotta make sure you stay that way, Doctor Shin-chan.”

“...I see,” Midorima replied, feeling his eye twitch a bit at the sound of “Doctor Shin-chan.” Then he took a breath to restore his composure, and asked, “So, does that mean you plan to join me in law-abiding citizenship?”

“I suppose it does. There's no way I can quit taking drugs when I'm around them all the time to give them to other people.”

“Indeed,” Midorima replied absently, staring for a moment as he processed that, and when the realization hit him that _he had Takao back_ , he couldn't stop the smile that pulled at his lips. Just a little self-conscious, he raised his hand to adjust his glasses, effectively hiding half of his face as he said, “In that case… I look forward to your company.”

“You probably shouldn't. Withdrawal isn't fun. I only tried quitting once before, but I didn't even finish going through it before I started dealing,” Takao told him. “But I do look forward to seeing more of you. I've certainly missed that.”

Midorima’s heartbeat sped up as he imagined seeing Takao every single day, and said quietly, “So have I.”

* * *

“You look tired,” Takao observed when Midorima walked into his room.

Midorima glanced at his watch. “Well, I did just finish a ten-hour shift, so that’s not surprising,” he said, unthinkingly checking Takao’s vitals before taking off his lab coat. He folded it neatly before laying it at the foot of the hospital bed and sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair next to it. “How are you feeling?”

Takao closed the book he was reading to give Midorima his undivided attention with a concerned look. “Probably better than you if you’ve been here for ten hours. You need to get some rest.”

“I have food,” Midorima said by way of argument, holding up a paper bag full of takeout from a place down the street. “Real food. Not hospital food.”

Takao’s eyes lit up, momentarily sidetracked by the sight of food that presumably wouldn’t taste like cardboard.  “Real food that you plan to share, right?”

“Obviously,” Midorima replied, pulling out two boxes of food, passing one of them and a pair of chopsticks to Takao before beginning to eat from his own box.

“Okay, I accept your bribe, but you have to get some rest after we finish eating.” Takao told him after taking a bite, eyes shining happily.

After taking several bites—he was _starving_ —Midorima replied, “First of all, I am sitting in a chair and eating. That counts as resting.” Then he pointed his chopsticks accusingly at Takao and continued, “Secondly, after all the years I spent telling _you_ to rest and watching you instead hobble out the door with that idiotic grin on your face, you don't have the authority to tell _me_ to rest.”

“Let me rephrase: but you have to go home and get some sleep after we finish eating.” Takao gave him the same idiotic grin Midorima had just mentioned for good measure.

“I will certainly go home and sleep at some point before my next shift,” Midorima said agreeably.

Takao eyed him suspiciously, but decided to take his word for it. “I almost forgot what good doctors were like while you were gone. You people won’t leave me alone trying to make sure I’m still doing okay.”

Midorima paused and looked up from his food, curious and a bit concerned. “That’s the entire point of being a doctor. What kind of fraudulent fool have you been dealing with since I left?”

“The kind that fucking left me for dead; I’m glad I charged that motherfucker extra,” Takao muttered bitterly.

Midorima’s face and expression went stone cold. “He did _what?_ ”

“Well . . . you weren’t the first person I called.”

_“Hello?”_

_“So, if you could pick a time to actually play doctor, now would be a good one. I’m kind of bleeding out,” Takao greeted, a gasp of pain leaving him as he tried to shift slightly._

_There was a short pause, then the doctor sighed. “Guess I’ll have to get a new dealer, then,” he replied disinterestedly before hanging up._

_“You_ — _fucking_ — _shit, what am I supposed to do now?” He glared at his phone as best as he could with his vision going in and out of focus before deciding on who he needed to call._

At some point while Takao was explaining, Midorima stood up—he wasn’t sure exactly when, though, because his mind was consumed with a fiery rage, and a _very strong_ desire to track down this _doctor_ and—suddenly Takao’s hands on his wrists were pulling him back down until he was sitting again.

“Angry isn’t really a good look on you.” Takao commented offhandedly, offering a smile that was only half-believable considering most of the color had drained from his face when he’d sat up to reach for Midorima.  

“Lie down,” Midorima snapped, already reaching forward to put his hands on Takao’s shoulders and gently push him back down onto the bed. Then, he processed Takao’s words, and took a deep breath, making an effort to calm himself down. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t be angry,” he grumbled, though the more he thought about it, the more he realized that going back to that neighborhood, for any reason, would likely be a very bad idea.

“Because you can’t do anything with that anger,” Takao told him seriously. “You’re working as a real doctor now. Anything you do reflects on your work. Don’t ruin that because you got mad over how someone treated me. It’s not worth it.”

Midorima was quiet for a long moment. He released Takao’s shoulders and sat back to gaze at him contemplatively, finding that while he couldn’t disagree, he couldn’t entirely agree either. It was true that his job was important, and that he really couldn’t afford to take risks so early on in his career, but… "not worth it"? When Midorima thought about it, in terms of what Takao was worth to him, he was mildly alarmed at how little everything else seemed to matter in comparison. He wasn’t quite sure how to express this to Takao without sounding crazy though, so instead, after a drawn-out silence, he replied with one thing he was certain about: “I’m glad you called me,” he said in a quiet but firm tone.

Takao’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the transition, but he smiled anyway. “I’m glad too. I’ve really missed you.” He decided to try to lighten the mood a bit. “And Kotarou missed you too when he scratched his leg and I offered to help.”

Midorima continued staring at him, but now with an exasperated expression. “Please tell me he refused,” he asked with some trepidation.

“No, that’s why he missed you.” Takao grinned at him.

Midorima facepalmed.

* * *

Takao didn’t have many belongings—it had taken more time to track down all of his things than to pack them, considering his habit of staying with so many different people. Still, it was frustrating when Midorima and Nijimura refused to let him carry a single thing due to his still-healing injury, and instead did all the work themselves. Riko and Kotarou had wanted to help too, but had been busy that day. Takao had been hoping to grab at least one box while the other two were busy carrying other things, but he encountered an unforeseen problem. “Niji-chan, your dog is sleeping on this box,” he complained.

Nijimura turned to look over his shoulder as he carried one of the other boxes into the apartment. “Then let him sleep,” he replied, as if that were the obvious solution. “What kind of asshole wakes up a sleeping dog that cute?”

“The kind that’s more of a cat person,” Takao answered, watching the dog as he tried to figure out if there was any way to move the box without waking it up.

“Well, fuck off and leave my dog alone then. You’re not supposed to be lifting anything anyway. Right, Midorima?”

“That is correct,” Midorima called from the adjacent room where he’d just dropped off the box he’d been moving.

Nigou stirred, then looked up and barked at Takao, wagging his tail happily. “Thanks for waking up, buddy. I’ll give you a treat later,” Takao whispered to the dog before lifting him off the box and carrying the box inside.

Hearing the sound of Takao lifting the box, Midorima rushed back to the door and took it from him with a stern look. “Sit down before you tear your stitches.”

Takao pouted at him. “Shin-chan, I wanna help,” he complained.

“You can help by _not_ re-injuring yourself,” Midorima said flatly as he carried the box away.

“And by not waking up my dog, asshole,” Nijimura grumbled irritably as he returned to the room and Nigou rushed over to him excitedly.

“I didn’t, Nigou woke up on his own. Also, who even invited you? How did you know I was injured?” Riko, he figured. He’d always suspected that Nijimura had some of his friends keep tabs on him, and this just solidified that theory. It was just like that time that he’d run up his phone bill calling him about Midorima, and Nijimura actually had mailed him money for his phone bill, and a little extra with a note telling him to buy something healthy to eat with it. Takao hadn't been sure how he had known Midorima’s address until he'd mentioned it to Riko. He really was the mother of Takao’s friend group.

Midorima came back at that moment, asking confusedly, “If the dog is number two, then who is number one?”

Nijimura had been about to snap at Takao in exasperation, but settled for a glare instead, before turning to Midorima. “None of your business,” he said curtly.

“...I see,” Midorima replied, shrugging it off before also glaring at Takao. “You’re not sitting down yet.”

“I’m sure not,” Takao grinned at him.

“I’ve got this,” Nijimura told him.

“Oh shit.” Takao’s grin dropped and he tried to back up, but Nijimura lifted him off of his feet and carried him over to the couch, dropping him onto it.

“Now he’s sitting.”

“ _Fuck_ , that hurt!” Takao glared at Nijimura accusingly.

Midorima stuck an arm between the two of them, also glaring at Nijimura. “Kindly cease manhandling the injured,” he said icily, and then turned his glare on Takao. “And _you_ —don’t you dare move from that couch until I say you can.”

Just to be an ass, Takao stood up and walked to the kitchen.

“Word of warning, if you tell him to do something, he won’t do it. I thought you’d know that by now,” Nijimura commented.

Midorima sighed, rubbing his temple in exasperation as Takao came back with a glass of juice. “It’s been a while. I’d forgotten.”

“I’m very offended that I’m so forgettable,” Takao proclaimed, sitting down on the couch where the dog quickly joined him.

“And I’m offended by your nonchalant attitude towards your own well-being,” Midorima shot back, frowning.

“Okay, but like, you’ve always been offended by that. I didn’t forget. I know that if I tell you about the time I used a coat hanger to dig out a bullet and then covered the wound in Iron Man band-aids you’ll make the same face you did for the floss stitches.”

Midorima did, in fact, make that exact same face, opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and turned to walk into the kitchen. He definitely needed more coffee to deal with Takao.

“Shin-chan! Shin-chan don’t leave me with Niji-chan!” Takao reached out a hand towards Midorima’s retreating form.

Nijimura hit Takao upside the head before sitting next to him and throwing an arm around his shoulders to keep him from moving around again. “Shin-chan, he’s hurting me! He’s hurting the injured person! He just _hit me!”_ Takao shouted, trying and failing to get out from under Nijimura’s arm.

Midorima peeked back into the room to make sure Takao wasn’t dying or anything, and upon surveying the situation, nodded to Nijimura. “Good. Keep him there, please. Would you like some coffee?”

Takao adopted a look of shocked betrayal while Nijimura just nodded in answer to Midorima’s question. Nigou climbed into Takao’s lap and licked his chin to try and cheer him up.

“Be happy. My dog likes you more than you deserve,” Nijimura commented.

“Your dog likes everyone.”

“Not true. He pissed on Haizaki.”

“What’s your point?”

Midorima raised an eyebrow. “Both you and your dog have crossed Haizaki and lived? Are you _certain_ you don’t have some sort of superhuman power?”

“Completely sure. I’d like to see that punk ass try to mess with my dog though.” Nijimura scratched Nigou’s ears and the dog let out a happy bark.

“I don’t think he’s gonna be messing with anyone at the moment,” Takao interjected. “Heard he dropped off the face of the Earth. I haven’t seen him in a while either. I’ve been handling all of his customers recently. Now that I’m out of business, shit’s gonna get crazy down there while everyone tries to figure out who’s the new main dealer.”

Midorima hummed consideringly. “I would say it’s likely that someone he offended finally succeeding in taking revenge, but Haizaki is quite notable in that he eliminates anyone who poses a threat to him.”

Takao simply pointed at Nijimura, who was still restraining him in a too-tight-to-be-friendly grip.

“True, exceptions exist,” Midorima conceded.

“This exception is killing me. I can’t breathe, Shin-chan.”

“You’re being too dramatic.” Nijimura waved off his complaints. “I’m only holding onto your shoulders. There’s no way you can’t breathe.”

“Shin-chan, please...”

Midorima felt his resolve wavering, so he turned around and retreated to the kitchen again. But overall, he was less concerned about Nijimura hurting Takao than he was about Takao hurting himself through carelessness. “This is what you get for not listening to your doctor,” he called over his shoulder as he began to make the coffee.

“I've been abandoned!” Takao proclaimed.

“I'm right here,” Nijimura reminded him.

“ _Abandoned!”_ Takao reiterated firmly. Nigou barked at him. “My only solace is a dog,” he lamented.

Nijimura’s eyes widened ever so slightly as he remembered something. “Oh, Takao, I’ve got one more thing of yours in my car,” he said, heading for the door.

Takao’s whole face lit up as he realized what Nijimura was talking about. “You brought it?”

“Of course I did. I don’t want it. Glad to get that thing out of my apartment.”

Midorima peered back through the kitchen doorway again, looking back and forth between them with narrowed eyes. “...What are you talking about? What is it?”

“My sign,” Takao said proudly.

Midorima still had questions, but went back to making his coffee with just a sigh, pouring a copious amount into a mug and drinking as much as he could before Nijimura returned, in an attempt to prepare himself for whatever the hell was being brought into his apartment.

...And yet, he was still completely unprepared upon seeing Nijimura carrying a stop sign through the door. He carefully put his mug of coffee down before striding over and standing directly in Nijimura’s path, and just said, “No.”

“Yes,” Takao and Nijimura said at the same time.

Midorima glared at  both of them. “This is _illegal._ I will _not_ allow it in my apartment!”

 _“Really?”_ Takao laughed.

“Well I’m not keeping it now that he has a place to consistently stay. This thing has been in my apartment too long. It’s yours now.” Nijimura walked around Midorima and placed the sign in Takao’s lap, causing a bright smile to form on Takao’s face.

 _That is also illegal,_ Midorima thought (but definitely did _not_ say out loud) as Takao practically _glowed_ with happiness, making it suddenly much harder for him to hold his anti-stop sign stance. “Where—where did you even _get_ that?” he demanded, trying his best to stay angry, but not doing a great job of it.

“A four-way stop a few blocks away from Niji-chan’s old place,” Takao answered. “I'm so sure that I mentioned it to you around the time we met, when you were talking about your Oha Asa stuff.”

“He's been making me hold onto it for years,” Nijimura chimed in.

Takao beamed. “And now I can finally keep it for myself.”

Midorima tried to glare, but ended up just sighing. “...It’s staying in _your_ room,” he grumbled, returning regretfully to his coffee again.

“Of course it is,” Takao agreed, still grinning.


	9. Chapter 9

The first few days after Takao moved into Midorima’s apartment were fairly normal—he began exhibiting quite a few symptoms of withdrawal, but they seemed to be mild enough that Midorima’s wasn’t too concerned.

And then, one day, Takao didn’t come out of his room for the entire day.

Midorima spent the first half of the day feeling relieved that he was _finally_ resting and taking the strain off of his still-healing injury… and then, once Takao had missed two meals, he began to feel concerned. He knocked on the door sometime in the late afternoon. “Takao? Is everything alright?” he called when he didn’t get an immediate response.

“Yeah. Fine.” Takao’s voice came out muffled.

Midorima frowned, finding that a little hard to believe. “You haven’t eaten yet today.”

“ _I am fine,”_ Takao reiterated.  

He sighed and went to the kitchen to grab some crackers and water, then returned to Takao’s room and only knocked perfunctorily before he called, “I’m coming in!” and opened the door. At first, it seemed like the room was empty, but upon closer examination of the lump of blankets on the bed, Takao was, in fact, there. “You need to eat,” Midorima insisted as he approached.

“I’m not hungry,” Takao mumbled, and the blankets shifted slightly as he curled further in on himself.

“Regardless, you need to eat, or you _will_ feel worse.”

“No.”

Midorima narrowed his eyes, putting the food and water on the ground and sitting on the edge of the bed. He made an attempt to extricate Takao from the blankets, but the cocoon was so convoluted that he settled for locating Takao’s head and pressing the back of his hand to his forehead to check his temperature. “You have a severe fever,” he said with a frown, grabbing the water bottle. “At _least_ have some water.”

Takao pulled the blanket back over his face as a reply to that.

“Takao,” Midorima said sternly, pulling the blanket away again, “stop acting like a child. I’m trying to help you. Please drink some water.”

“If I drink it, I’ll puke. No,” he answered, trying to burrow himself further into the blankets.

“Just one small sip at a time. You’ll feel considerably worse later if you don’t stay hydrated,” Midorima insisted. He opened the water bottle and put a hand behind Takao’s head. “I’ll help you sit up a little so you can drink.”

“Shin-chan, I don’t want to,” he complained, but reluctantly let himself be moved into a sitting position, causing the blankets to pool around his waist and reveal that most of his body was trembling slightly.

“One small sip,” Midorima reiterated, moving his hand to Takao’s back for support and holding the water bottle up to his lips.

Takao made a face, but complied. And then his face drained of the little color it had left, and he got out of the bed as quickly as possible (which was a bit amazing considering how tangled the blankets had been around him), running to the bathroom, where he proceeded to empty his stomach.

Midorima followed him with a sigh. This was going to be a long few weeks.

* * *

Just a week and a half later, Midorima woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of Takao moving around in the apartment. He left his room to see Takao almost at the front door, moving very slowly like he was trying to keep quiet.

“Where are you going?” he asked, mildly concerned, but also somewhat suspicious.

“I actually got hungry, so I was gonna go get a snack,” Takao answered, flashing Midorima a smile.

“Oh,” Midorima replied, stifling a yawn. “Alright, be careful.” And then he turned to go back to bed, hearing Takao leave.

He was only in bed for about two minutes before he realized it probably wasn't food that Takao was going to get. He swore and got up, putting on shoes and bolting out the door. He didn't spot Takao until he got to the street, cursing again as he realized he forgot to put on his glasses, and closing his bad eye to confirm that that shadowed figure in the near distance was, in fact, Takao. He shouted his name, beginning to give chase.

Takao, who hadn't gotten very far yet since he was still injured, picked up his speed when he heard Midorima shout his name. It took awhile to catch up with him, especially since Takao had always made a habit of getting himself into chase situations and had a lot of stamina, but overall his current state of injury and withdrawal and Midorima’s longer legs won out, and several blocks away from the apartment, Midorima finally got close enough to grab his arm and pull them both to a stop. “What—do you think—you’re doing?” he demanded between gasps for breath.

“I'm fine. Go back to bed and leave me alone,” Takao said, even as he leaned on Midorima for support when a wave of dizziness hit him from the exertion of the chase.

“You are clearly _not_ fine,” Midorima snapped, putting a firm arm around his waist to keep him upright. “Are you going to walk back with me, or do I need to carry you?”

“Please don't do that; I'm pretty sure being dropped halfway there won't help my health.”

Midorima frowned, vaguely insulted that Takao thought he'd drop him, but chose not to comment on it. “Alright then, let's go,” he said, carefully loosening his grip on Takao’s waist to see if he _could_ walk by himself, a hand hovering right beside him in case he seemed like he was about to collapse.

Takao gave a resigned sigh, but started walking with Midorima anyway. “You didn't have to come after me,” he muttered.

“If you're going to try to convince me that it really was food and not drugs you were after, you can stop right there. Who were you going to meet?” Because if it was one of Takao's supposed “friends,” then they'd be getting an earful from Midorima about this. He hadn't kept many contact details for the people Takao had hung around with, but he was sure Riko or Kotarou could get him the information he needed. They'd been supportive of Takao’s decision to quit, after all.

Takao sighed, shoulders slumping. “No one you know. I mean, they may have gone to your doc shop before, but not one of my friends, so no one you know personally through me. Just an old supplier who owes me one. And it was just pot. Not even anything that bad, just something to take the edge off.”

“I don’t _care_ what it was,” Midorima said impatiently with a stern glance. “You said you wanted to go clean, and you’ve gotten this far. You are not going back now.”

“‘This far’? How far do you think I am? Because from where I’m standing this isn’t improvement. I feel like I’m dying! More than when I was _actually_ dying!” he complained. “And I really need to sit down, because you run faster than I thought you did.”

Midorima _looked_ at him. “I did offer to carry you, as I’m sure you recall.”

“Sitting down sounds easier.”

The look turned into a glare. “It also sounds like putting more time and distance between me and my bed, which is less than desirable, considering my shift begins at six tomorrow morning. I’ll carry you.” And with no further warning, he yanked Takao’s feet out from under him with one arm behind his knees and one around his shoulders.

Takao let out a startled yelp, clinging to Midorima with wide eyes. “Shin-chan! Put me down!”

“Not until we get back to the apartment,” Midorima grumbled, starting to walk slowly, and then picking up the pace as he got used to the weight in his arms.

“I don’t like this. Just put me down. I’ll tough it out and walk,” he pleaded.

“Why? Are you afraid I’m going to drop you?” Midorima retorted, perhaps with more childish bitterness than he would have were he not very tired.

“If you did I’m not sure it would be on accident,” Takao said, eyeing Midorima suspiciously.

“No, I suspect it wouldn’t be,” Midorima agreed coolly.

“Shin-chan!”

Midorima ignored that, and the rest of the way home passed in relative silence, and then when they got back to the apartment, he made a last-minute decision and brought Takao into his own room, dropping him onto his bed. “To keep an eye on you,” he explained preemptively as he pulled a futon out from under his bed.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Takao said. He wasn’t quite glaring, but it was pretty damn close.  

“Think of me as a parole officer then, if that makes you feel better,” he replied grumpily, throwing a pillow and blanket down onto the ground.

“It doesn’t.” Takao got up and started to walk towards the door to go back to his own room.

Midorima reached out to grab him almost before he even started moving. “Too bad. Lie down.”

“No.” Takao folded his arms over his chest.

With his grip on Takao’s shirt, Midorima pulled until he was facing him again, and opened his mouth to continue arguing, but felt his frustration beginning to turn into emotions against his will. “Takao. Listen to me,” he said firmly, and took a deep breath before continuing, “You can do this. I _know_ you are strong enough to do this, but—”

“And what if I can’t do it?! I’m not sure where your faith in me is coming from, because I have done literally nothing to earn it.” He tried to glare up at Midorima, but he was sure it didn’t come across as angry as he wanted it to.

Midorima gazed down at him steadily, seeing through the fierce facade to the uncertainty beneath, and aiming to dispel it. “You hardly ever run from a fight. I know, because you wouldn’t have been in my office nearly as often otherwise. This is just another fight—and just because the enemy is a bit different this time, that doesn’t mean you can’t win.”

“I can’t punch drug addiction,” Takao deadpanned, before he continued to argue. “And with how shit I’m feeling right about now, I don’t think I could win a fight even if I _could_ punch addiction. You could probably take me in a fight right now if you wanted to.”

“Do you truly think the best solution is to give up, after only a few weeks, just because you don’t feel like you can succeed?” Midorima asked, but didn’t wait for a reply before providing the answer. “No. You need to give yourself more of a chance than that. You deserve it.”

“I’ve gotta disagree with you on that last part, Shin-chan.” Takao shifted his gaze to the floor, unwilling to look at Midorima. “You think more of me than you should.”

“And you think too little of yourself,” Midorima insisted, then paused a moment. There was an important turning point here, and in order to assure that Takao would make the correct choice, he had to say the right thing, in the right way. “I don’t think that you’re perfect, Takao. But I know that, despite everything you have endured, you still have a good heart. I know that you have an incredible mind. And I know that you are a good friend to many, and it pains me to see you give up on yourself.” He released Takao’s shirt and instead laid a hand on his shoulder. “But I also know… no matter how much you might insist to the contrary, you cannot do everything alone. Let me help you.”

Takao frowned, but didn’t move away, his eyes flitting over Midorima’s face as he contemplated his next course of action. “Fine.”

Midorima let out a sigh of relief.

“But I’m at least getting a water bottle. You made me run,” Takao added.

“I believe it would be more accurate to say that _you_ made _me_ run,” Midorima grumbled, but still let go of Takao’s shoulder.

“Well you didn’t have to run,” Takao said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a water before returning, taking slow sips from it. His stomach still wasn’t a fan of anything going into it, but he was trying.

* * *

The next day, Nijimura showed up, stopping in front of Takao, and subsequently blocking his view of the TV. “So, I hear you’re having trouble kicking the drug habit. Figured I’d help you out,” he said, dropping a pack of cigarettes on the table next to the chair Takao was in.

Midorima glared from where he sat on the couch beside Takao. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said, ready to grab for the cigarettes if Takao went to take them.

Takao made a face at the pack and then at Nijimura. “Help with what? Giving me lung cancer?” he asked incredulously. “You know I can’t stand these things.”

“I know.”

“So you’re not being helpful at all. You just came over to be an ass.”

Nijimura grinned at him. “I know,” he repeated.

“You spent actual money on being a dick. I hope you _know_ that.”

Midorima’s anger was gradually replaced with annoyance as the interaction went on, and, shaking his head with an exasperated sigh, he returned his attention to the patient files in his lap that he was in the process of updating. “The amount of more useful ways you could have spent that money is staggering,” he commented absently.

“Hang on, hang on, it _is_ actually helpful,” Nijimura insisted. He picked up the pack and forced Takao to hold it, even though he looked completely against doing it. “Every time you want to go sneak out and get drugs, light one of these.”

“You want me to pick up smoking?”

“You already smoke.”

“Not these.”

“That’s not the point. Anyway, you don’t smoke them, you light them, and you can’t leave to get drugs until you’ve burned the whole thing. You can only put it out if you change your mind about going. You’ll hopefully start to associate going out for drugs with the smell you hate so much, and stop wanting to do it.”

Midorima looked up, impressed. “That’s… actually not a terrible idea,” he said, then glanced over at Takao to gauge his reaction.

Takao was looking at the pack in his hands with disgust. “You definitely could have spent your money better. Shin-chan’s apartment is going to be disgusting by the time I get through this withdrawal.”

“Don’t do it inside. You’ll set off a smoke alarm, dumbass.”

“ _I’m_ going to smell disgusting. It’ll get all over my clothes.”

“Deal with it. It’ll help you,” Nijimura said, ruffling Takao’s hair to piss him off.

“Your doctor approves,” Midorima agreed.

“There you go. You’ve got a new method of dealing with this.”

“I’m going to be sick the first time I do it, is what’s gonna happen,” Takao muttered, but held onto the pack.

* * *

After a while the withdrawal symptoms started to ease, but Takao encountered a new problem. He was lying in bed staring up at the ceiling when suddenly… he wasn’t. He was looking _through_ it. “No, no, no,” he muttered, closing his eyes and opening them again, but he could still see through it.

His heart pounded with growing horror as he watched the people upstairs walking around.

“Fuck. No. Stop it right now,” he ordered himself. He flipped over so that his face was buried in his pillow, but now he was looking at the people downstairs and he started to freak out.

Midorima, concerned by the distressed noises coming from Takao’s room, knocked on his door, and when the only response was the sound of intensifying panic, he entered the room. “Takao? What’s wrong?” he asked, approaching the bed where he lay.

“I swear, I didn’t take anything. I really didn’t, Shin-chan.” Takao looked up at Midorima with tears starting to form in his eyes. He could only even sort of see Midorima. He was mostly looking through him, and that was only making it worse.

The mild concern very quickly turned to alarm—Midorima had never seen Takao so upset as to be on verge of tears, not even during the worst of the injuries he’d sustained over the years. “Alright, I believe you,” he said first, to try to assuage some of Takao’s panic. He sat on the edge of Takao’s bed. “What are you feeling? What’s happening? Describe your symptoms to me.”

Takao wrapped his arms around Midorima to try and assure himself that he was there in front of him, even though he didn’t appear solid to his eyes. “I—I think—I must have permanently fucked myself up. I’m seeing through things, and that kind of hallucination only happened when I was really high, but I didn’t take anything, and it’s happening, so I must have done permanent damage.” He laid his head on Midorima’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes tightly shut both to keep the tears from falling and to try and stop what was happening to his vision.

Midorima let Takao hold onto him, wrapping an arm loosely around his waist in return, and considered his words quietly for a moment before responding, “That’s not necessarily true. Keeping talking to me. Tell me what it is you’re seeing, specifically.”

Takao hesitantly opened his eyes again, looking down at the floor. He tried to keep calm, but his voice shook a bit as he spoke. “A living room. They have a red couch. Kinda old, covered in stains. They should really replace it. A TV playing some kind of sitcom. The people who live downstairs, but you know what they look like. They have a cat, which is against building code. Carpet instead of wood floors like us.” He closed his eyes as he started to feel overwhelmed again.

Midorima paused. If Takao was really hallucinating, as he seemed to believe, all of those things he’d just described were arbitrary, nothing more than figments of his imagination with no rhyme or reason to them. But something about the realism in the details made a thought occur to him. It was a little far-fetched, but… worth a shot, he thought, as he went quiet to listen very carefully. “I… do hear a TV playing downstairs,” he said slowly, with a nod. “And I have certainly heard a cat’s meow every so often. Perhaps… if you are seeing what’s really there, and not hallucinating… then this could be some sort of power, rather than the side effect of a drug.”

“Shin-chan, I’m twenty-three. Powers don’t develop this late. Birth or puberty. That’s the cut off. I can assure you, I’ve been through puberty already.” Tears were starting to fall as he imagined the rest of his life being messed up by the drugs he’d been taking after all he’d been through the past few weeks to try to go clean. He probably wouldn’t be getting so emotional had he not just gone through weeks of withdrawal, but that on top of finding out he might have quit for nothing was a bit too much, even for him.

Midorima could hear the tears in his voice, could hear all of his resolve fading and all of the progress of the last few weeks unravelling as he spoke, and he knew he needed to stop that as soon as possible. “Takao, I—you…” he tried to begin, but the words seemed to carry no weight or power, nothing that could get through to Takao the way he wanted. So he pulled away just enough to lift his hands to Takao’s cheeks, holding his face up so that their eyes met, and said, “Kazunari. Listen to me. You’ve come too far to give up now. We’re going to figure this out. Just stay calm, and listen to me. You’re going to be fine. Okay?”

Slowly, very slowly, Takao’s vision focused in on Midorima. He took a few deep breaths before nodding, even though his body was still shaking with nerves.

Midorima let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Alright.” It took a moment for his sense of logic and reason to fully kick back in, and another moment after that, in which he absently wiped the tears from Takao’s cheeks with his thumbs, and then he finally came up with another idea. “My desk is right here, on the other side of this wall,” he said, voice slow and soft as he tapped the fingers of one hand indicatively against said wall. “Laying on top of it is a book I just acquired today, which you have never seen, and about which I have never spoken to you. Can you tell me what it looks like and what its title is?”

“I... I can try. Everything looks normal now, but...” He looked at the wall and his brows furrowed as he tried to concentrate. “It just sort of happened before, I don’t know how to make it hap—” He tensed up as the wall went out of focus and the desk came into view. “Never mind.” He looked around until he spotted a book and tried to focus on that. “The... The Essential Physics of Medical Imaging. It’s purple with a generic textbook design. Lots of lines and one picture that probably has nothing to do with the book’s contents.”

Midorima blinked in mild surprise. “That’s exactly correct,” he said, smiling just a little. “...And would have been completely impossible for you to do if it was a drug-induced hallucination.”

“But... no. That doesn’t make sense.” He frowned as he tried to make his vision go back to normal. When that didn’t work he closed his eyes and rested his head on Midorima’s shoulder again, hoping it would pass by the time he reopened his eyes.

“It makes perfect sense, considering you were only thirteen when you started taking drugs,” Midorima replied.

That caused Takao to give Midorima his full attention, eyesight luckily complying. “When did I tell you how old I was when I started taking drugs?”

Midorima hesitated for only a moment before deciding to answer truthfully, “Sometime within the first few months of us meeting, I believe. You were very much under the influence.”

“And you remembered that after all this time?” Takao frowned. “I said more than that, didn't I? Something to make that detail more notable?”

“Well, yes. You…” He paused and tried to come up with a somewhat tactful way to say it. “You told me about your past—about why you became a drug dealer.”

“Right.” Takao flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Well, it's a few years late, but sorry for bugging you with that. I don't know why I would have brought that up, but sorry anyway.” He sighed, before trying to get back on track. “Alright, I was thirteen. So what? What does that have to do with anything?”

Midorima opened his mouth to explain about that day years ago, but closed it when Takao returned to the subject at hand, instead addressing that. “The age of thirteen is most certainly considered a part of pubescence. Your power could have begun manifesting anytime between then and now, and you might have written off all related incidents to your drug-induced hallucinations.”

“Well yeah, of course I would write it off. The only time I've had this kind of thing happen, before now, was when I was on drugs. Wouldn't a power show up other times if I had one?”

Midorima had to think about that one for a minute, but eventually he reasoned it out. “Most likely, it would have to do with the large variety of drugs you took. Stimulants would augment the power, whereas depressants would stunt its development and subdue it.”

Takao looked like he was about to say something to that before something else sidetracked him. “Why is only this one coming in, then? What about the other power?”

“What other power?” Midorima asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“I don't know, it's weird. I'm sure I've mentioned this to you before. The thing where I'm either really fast or I make everything else really slow,” Takao said, throwing one of his arms over his eyes.

“Ah,” Midorima said with a thoughtful nod. “Well, unless you've had a post-withdrawal experience with that, it's probably not something you have to worry about.” Midorima supposed it was a possibility, but he'd never heard of someone with two completely unrelated powers before. “...Either way, don't experiment with that until you're outdoors and in better health—if it's super speed, that could end badly in an enclosed space.”

“I wouldn’t begin to know how to experiment with it if I wanted to,” Takao argued. “I don’t know anything about superpowers that Niji-chan hasn’t told me. Even you haven’t told me that much about yours.”

Midorima was a little caught off-guard by the accusation, but found he couldn't contest it. “There isn't much to know. And my powers developed gradually from birth, so I don't think the story of my experience would help you much.”

“Do you know anyone that could?” he asked, sitting up again to look at Midorima. The thought of the stripper with shape-shifting powers he'd met nearly six years ago crossed his mind, but Takao wasn't sure how to contact him.

“No, but I'll find someone,” Midorima assured him.


	10. Chapter 10

A week later, Midorima was faced with the realization that he knew far fewer people than he'd thought, and that a significant portion of them, being criminals, were either dead or in prison. So, he had to use his last resort much sooner than he'd hoped.

…Which was why he and Takao were now on the way to meet the notorious team of self-proclaimed superheroes: the Generation of Miracles. They were surprisingly easy to contact.

“I should forewarn you, I do not know these people personally, so I have no idea what their idea of ‘helping’ is,” he said to Takao as they approached the house in which the heroes lived.

“Very reassuring, Shin-chan,” Takao said blandly.

The door swung open before he could say more, and a girl with pink hair smiled at them. “Can we help you?”

Midorima adjusted his glasses. “Yes, I called the other day, asking if you would be willing to provide assistance for a friend who was having difficulty with his powers.”

Her eyes widened in recognition. “Oh, so you must be Midorima-san.”

He nodded. “And this is Takao.”

Takao waved, but then his eyes caught someone walking by behind her. “Ganguro! You didn't OD like I thought you would!” he said cheerfully, waving.

Midorima followed his gaze, seeing the young man once known as Blue Lightning.

“Haah???” Aomine said, eyes narrowed angrily as he approached the front door. “Who the  _ fuck _ —oh, it's you.” His nose wrinkled in displeasure as he recognized them. “The fuck are you doing here?”

Suddenly, Midorima understood why he’d had so much trouble figuring out why the vigilante had always looked so familiar to him. In all of the news clips of him fighting in battle or standing in press conferences, he always looked powerful and untouchable, almost inhumanly so. But up close, in person, he looked younger and more tired, like a grumpy teenager who had just gotten out of bed and was liable to lash out at anything—much more similar to the way he had looked years ago, when he had come to Midorima’s office looking for Takao.

Momoi hit Aomine’s shoulder. “They're here for our help, so stop being an ass, Dai-chan,” she snapped, and then turned back to Midorima and Takao with a sweet smile. “Come on in!”

Midorima thanked her and they followed her inside.

“So what the hell do you need, anyway?” Aomine asked bluntly, still eyeing Takao with mild irritation.

“Well not the ten bucks that I let you get away with shorting me last time we met,” Takao told Aomine with a grin, before tilting his head as he heard someone running down the stairs.

“Did I just hear Kazucchi talking?!” Kise shouted before almost knocking a very surprised Takao over in a hug that actually kind of hurt since he was still recovering.

“Ryo-chan?!” Takao exclaimed with wide eyes.

“You know a drug dealer?” Aomine asked incredulously.

“Duh. You know where I worked.”

“I'm actually no longer a dealer,” Takao said proudly.

“Really? That's great, Kazucchi!” Kise enthused, then paused. “Aominecchi, why do  _ you  _ know a drug dealer?”

“For the  _ normal  _ reason someone would know a drug dealer,” Aomine said, rolling his eyes.

“Tell me, why do people normally know a drug dealer?” Takao asked innocently, batting his eyelashes at Aomine.

Aomine’s jaw clenched, an eye twitching in irritation. “For drugs, dumbass,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You were an addict?” Kise asked Aomine with surprise.

“No, it was  _ one time _ ,” Aomine snapped.

“Well, one time that you bought drugs. We met twice.” Takao turned sad eyes on Kise. “He was rude to me both times. And I’d been recently shot too.”

Kise put on a melodramatic look of shock and offense as he turned to look at Aomine. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to be rude to your drug dealers? That’s not how you get good drugs.”

Aomine rounded on Kise and took half a step towards him, brows furrowed angrily. “Shut the  _ fuck  _ up. And wipe that stupid fucking look off your face, I can’t fucking  _ stand _ it when you do that shit!” he shouted, getting louder and more violent until his words were punctuated with sparks of electricity snapping from his clenched fists.

There was a moment of silence after the outburst, in which Midorima realized he had unconsciously taken a step back, pulling Takao back with him, his gaze switching between a cautious study of Aomine’s fists and checking in with Takao beside him.

Momoi was the first to break the silence. “Dai-chan,” she began calmly as she gripped Aomine’s arm tightly and pulled him back from Kise. “Get me a glass of water from the kitchen?” she requested, smiling sweetly, but with a tone that left no room for argument. “And count to at least thirty before you come back.”

Aomine sighed in irritation, avoiding her gaze as he turned and walked back down the hallway, audibly grumbling the whole way.

Midorima was still looking between everyone, mildly bewildered, and not sure what to say, so he was rather grateful when Momoi interjected. “ _ Anyway _ , Midorima-san said you had a problem with your powers?” she asked Takao.

Takao nodded, not bothering to try and get Kise to let go of him. “Yeah. I don't know anything about them. Shin-chan thinks that it has to do with the drug use, but now I'm off of drugs and need to know how to control my powers. Also, is it possible for someone to have two completely unrelated powers?”

Momoi raised her hand to indicate herself. “I have telekinesis, and I'm also an empath. Not  _ completely  _ unrelated, but it does happen.”

“So it wouldn't be weird for me to have vision powers and super speed?”

“No, that'd be super cool!!!” Kise said, practically vibrating with excitement while still clinging to Takao, and that was where Midorima drew the line.

“Kindly take your overenthusiastic puppy act somewhere else,” he said coolly. “Takao is injured.”

Kise blinked a few times before smirking. “Oh? So this is the Shin-chan you told me about, Kazucchi. I don't know, he seems pretty concerned about you. And it's definitely been long enough for him to be a doctor by now, so that didn't end it like you thought.” He gained a mischievous glint to his eyes before stepping forward and holding out a hand to Midorima. “Hi, I'm Kise Ryouta. I slept with your boyfriend a few years ago. At least, I'm hoping that you got your act together and started dating him by now.”

Midorima flushed a deep shade of pink and ignored the offered hand in favor of glaring. “He is  _ not  _ my boyfriend, and I did  _ not  _ need that information about your relationship with him.” He paused for moment, then added with narrowed eyes, “You’re a damn Gemini, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am! How’d you know?” Kise said with a laugh, then continued without waiting for a response. “And I wouldn't call it a relationship. This is my first time seeing him since. So, in regards to me at least, he's still free for you.” He winked.

“Ki-chan, are you flirting with Midorima-san …  _ for  _ Takao-san?” Momoi asked.

“Well,  _ he's _ clearly not, and  _ someone’s  _ gotta!” Kise protested.

Takao stood at the sidelines of this train wreck, trying to figure out if he was mortified or wanted to laugh. Meanwhile, Aomine returned from his trip to kitchen, though judging by the exasperated expression as he took in the situation, he didn’t particularly want to be there.

“No one had to,” Momoi sighed, taking the glass of water from Aomine. “I'm really sorry about Ki-chan, Midorima-san. I think he means well, but his delivery leaves something to be desired.”

“What a nice way to say he's a pain in the ass,” Aomine commented.

“Aominecchi!”

Midorima sighed, wishing his face would cool off faster. “Moving on…” he said pointedly, looking anywhere but at Takao for the moment. He cleared his throat before continuing, “The vision power seems to have fully manifested, but the other remains something of a mystery. He’s not even sure if it’s superspeed or not. Can you recommend a method to draw out a power?”

“Stress,” Aomine answered immediately. “Physical danger, emotional trauma. Anything that puts stress on you can trigger your powers.”

“All things that I could live my life without. I don't really  _ need  _ super speed,” Takao said.

“Oh come on, having powers is  _ great _ . What’s a little suffering, right?” Aomine said, eyebrows raised with a slight smirk—which, when combined with the dark circles under his eyes, was a somewhat disconcerting expression.

“Dai-chan…” Momoi said warningly.

He ignored her completely and took a step towards Takao. “Here, let me help you,” he said, and with no further warning, flicked his wrist to unleash a miniature bolt of lightning that struck the ground at Takao’s feet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Midorima snapped, suddenly remembering all of the reasons he'd been so reluctant to ask these people for help.

Takao took a quick step backwards, holding up his hands. He was great in fights most of the time, but “most of the time” didn't include someone who could shoot lightning, and he wasn't interested in finding out how he fared against that. “That sounds like a really bad idea since I don't even know for sure that I have it, so let's not. Shin-chan, can we go home now?”

“Aominecchi, he's injured, leave him alone.”

“Dai-chan, now is  _ not  _ the time to test your control.”

Aomine ignored their protests. “That was a pretty fast dodge, but not  _ super  _ fast,” he said with a shit-eating grin. “Come on, let's see if you can run fast enough to dodge  _ lightning. _ ” He charged up both of his arms, shooting another bolt, this time aiming over Takao’s shoulder, but close enough to look like he was going right for his head.

Takao ducked and glared at Aomine. “I'm serious. Fuck off. I'm not interested in playing this game with you.”

Aomine paused, then said, “Alright. New game.” And then he aimed his other arm at Midorima, slowly enough that it was obvious what he was doing, but fast enough that only superhuman speed would get him away completely unharmed. “Dodge _ this _ ,” he said as he shot another bolt.

“What are you—” Takao began, but things happened far too quickly for him to get the entire sentence out. He wasn’t sure what came first—the horrified realization of what Aomine was doing, or his body’s instinctive reaction—but either way, it couldn’t have been more than a split second after that moment that he and Midorima were suddenly out on the sidewalk, and all at once he felt like he had just run an entire marathon.

The heroes all followed them outside, with varying expressions of surprise. Meanwhile, Aomine was looking mildly impressed. “Holy shit, that was fast.”

Takao ignored the pain from his still-healing wound as he got to his feet, radiating anger and glaring daggers at Aomine as he spat out the words, “You son of a  _ bitch _ .”

It took a minute for Midorima to process what had just happened, but the moment he heard the violent anger in Takao's voice, he pushed himself to unsteady feet and reached out to grab his arm. “Takao. I'm fine. Calm down.”

“Yeah, you're fine because it worked. If it hadn't, you wouldn't be,” Takao argued, struggling in Midorima’s grasp to get to Aomine. It would have been an easy task if he was at his best, but he was injured, still in the late stages of withdrawal, and had just expended an enormous amount of energy sprinting at super speed with Midorima in tow.

“Kazucchi, you shouldn't be getting into fights if you're hurt,” Kise tried, placing himself in front of Takao.

“I don't  _ care  _ about that!”

“I do,” Midorima said sternly, holding his arm tighter when his struggling grew more violent. Beginning to regain his balance, he managed to grab Takao’s other arm as well. “So stop being an idiot and calm down already.”

“But he tried to hurt you,” Takao protested, looking over his shoulder at Midorima, and behind the anger in his eyes there was a sense of panic as well at the idea that Midorima could have been seriously hurt if he hadn’t been able to use his new powers.

Midorima used that brief moment of relent to turn Takao around to face him, hands on his shoulders to keep him there, and, despite knowing that logic was not always the best way to get through to Takao, tried to reason with him, because it was the best way he knew how to help at the moment. “He was trying to get a reaction out of you with the  _ threat _ of hurting me,” he corrected. “He was clearly holding back—”

“That idiot wasn’t holding anything back, Shin-chan. Didn’t you hear his friend telling him it wasn’t a good time to test his control? That means he doesn’t  _ have  _ full control, but he was still willing to do that.” Takao turned back to Aomine, looking at him through narrowed eyes. “I’ll bet you ten bucks that’s why he tried to buy drugs off of me with no knowledge of how he was supposed to take them.”

Aomine’s expression went from mildly smug to caught off-guard immediately, which told Takao he’d hit a weak spot, and he wasted no time continuing to press at it. Just because Midorima wouldn’t let him punch the guy in the face, it didn’t mean there weren’t other ways to fight him.

“I figured with the look on your face you’d gotten into some kind of fight with your parents. Wanted to rebel a little. But no. You’d hurt someone, right? Got pissed off or tried to play a game like this, and hurt someone?” Takao raised an eyebrow at him. “Up until recently, I haven’t had a need to look into suppressing powers with drugs, but there is information on it out there. You found that, right? But you were still going to play around with electricity and risk hurting Shin-chan like that?” He looked around, pulling free of Midorima’s grasp and holding his arms out to address the group at large. “I mean, can’t you feel the electricity around us right now? He’s already losing it just listening to me.”

The air was indeed beginning to thrum with energy, sparks crackling around Aomine’s clenched fists as he glared at Takao. Momoi stepped in front of him, putting a hand up to his chest—not actually touching him because of the electric current building up, but rather holding him back with telekinesis. “Dai-chan, stop. Breathe,” she said, quietly but firmly, and then turned to Takao with her expression carefully composed, except for the hint of worry in her eyes. “Takao-san, you have every right to be upset, but—”

“No, you’re right. I do have a right to be upset, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m not finished,” Takao interrupted.

Aomine seemed to be making an attempt to calm down, though it had no visible effect on his power. “Tell you what,” he called over to Takao, voice straining with forced calm. “You leave, right now, and we can just pretend all of this never happened. Bygones, right?”

Takao crossed his arms over his chest. “No dice, buddy. You’re apologizing to Shin-chan before I go anywhere.”

“Fuck off,” Aomine snapped in reply, his brief attempt at composure slipping quickly. He tried to take a step forward, but he was still being held back for the moment by Momoi.

“We can call this a test on control. You wanted to test my powers, it’s only fair I test yours, right? So far, you’re failing. I haven’t even tried to attack you or your friends yet, but I think you’ve got attacking your friends down if you can’t control your powers.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Aomine’s voice was louder every time he spoke, and so was the crackling electricity in the air around him. “You don’t know a single goddamned thing about me.”

“Don’t I?” Takao raised an eyebrow. “You’ve hurt people before. Several times. I’ll bet you’ve hurt Momoi-san, enough times that she isn’t scared to get that close to you. You’ve probably been friends with her for a long time then if she hasn’t bailed. You hurt someone pretty badly the night you came to me. Probably almost killed them.”

Aomine flinched, and something in his eyes grew distant as the electric currents began to look more like small bolts of lightning. Kise and Momoi exchanged an alarmed glance, and Momoi got as close to Aomine as was safe, and began murmuring to him, so softly that even Midorima couldn’t quite hear.

Takao continued on, either not noticing Aomine’s reaction, or simply not caring. “Feel free to stop me if I’m getting anything wrong.”

Midorima grabbed his arms again and tugged him back a step. “I suggest you stop regardless of whether you’re right or wrong,” he said, keeping a cautious eye on Aomine.

“I’d take that under consideration if you hadn’t almost died.” Takao snapped before turning his attention back to Aomine. “You took the drugs, but you don’t know how to use them and they didn’t work the way you wanted them to. And now you’ve been playing hero to make yourself feel better about hurting people. Making up for it by saving people. But you still lack control. You’re a ticking time bomb. Am I missing anything?”  

As Takao spoke, Aomine’s eyes became blank with a singular rage burning behind them, and Momoi’s increasingly frantic voice attempting to talk him down could barely be heard over the electricity—which, after a moment, was joined by the sharp crack of lightning far overhead and the subsequent rumble of thunder. That drew their collective attention to the blackening storm clouds that quickly spread to cover the entirety of the sky that was visible from where they stood.

“Oh…” Kise said weakly. “...We were supposed to get a pretty bad thunderstorm later on today, weren’t we?”

“Get down!” Momoi yelled suddenly, and they all managed to duck just below a massive sonic wave that emitted from Aomine and coursed through the air, audibly hitting the buildings around them and leaving cracks. Apparently Momoi and Takao weren’t the only ones with two unrelated powers. “Where’s Mukkun?”

“I think he went to the store a while ago,” Kise answered with a grimace.

Momoi swore, and then again, a moment later, as lightning struck the ground alarmingly close by—the sound was deafening, and a brief wave of hot air washed over them, bringing a burning scent with it. “If we don’t have Mukkun, we need to get out of here. You two especially,” Momoi called to Takao and Midorima over the increasingly loud cacophony of the brewing storm. “He’ll be aiming for you, if anything.”

Takao nodded, grabbing Midorima, who had covered his ears when the sound wave went by, and started moving back. “Sorry for causing you trouble. I didn’t think he’d lose it this bad. I just got pissed about him messing with Shin-chan,” he told her.

Momoi waved him off. “You went a little too far, but so did Dai-chan. He’s an idiot like that. And he wasn’t having a very good day to begin with.” She winced as another lightning strike cracked through the air. “Maybe check the weather next time.” And with that, she and Kise ran off in the opposite direction.

* * *

“I want to say that went well, but I feel like you’d yell at me,” Takao said. The power was still out in most of the city by the time they got back to their apartment, and Takao got the feeling it would be out for a long time.

“I don’t want to hear another loud noise for the rest of my life. So no, I won’t yell,” Midorima said irritably, grateful that he had semi-functional vision in the dark so he could find the nearest bottle of painkillers. “I will, however, tell you that what you did was extremely stupid, and made the situation far worse than it needed to be.”

“I know,” Takao mumbled, shoulders drooping and head hanging, both because he actually felt kind of bad, and because he really was exhausted after the burst of speed and then the walk back to their apartment.

Midorima just sighed and began to gather all of the candles and flashlights he owned. “At least your powers are less of a mystery now,” he conceded, mollified by the lack of protest or disagreement from Takao.

“I still don’t know anything about control.” He flopped down on the couch. “But I don’t think I should go to them for that. I’ll just have to figure it out.”

“Everyone’s powers are different, so you’d likely be on your own for that either way,” Midorima advised him.

“Okay,” he mumbled vaguely, starting to drift towards sleep.

Entering the living room, Midorima dropped off his armful of candles on a table and then shined a flashlight onto Takao’s face. “If you’re going to sleep, you may as well go to bed.”

Takao’s face scrunched up in displeasure and he curled into a ball to try and block out the light. “I’m tired, leave me alone. I’m too young to be seeing the light.”

Midorima rolled his eyes, but also smiled a little in amusement. “I see. Would you say you are too tired to move then?”

“Yes. Go away.”

“On the contrary, I do believe we have an established protocol for situations such as this.” And that was all the warning he gave before scooping Takao off the couch and carrying him towards his room.

“I don’t like this protocol,” Takao whined, but didn’t try to move. If anything, he snuggled closer to Midorima.

“Too bad,” Midorima replied, placing him gently down on his bed and pulling his covers over him. “Get some rest.”

Takao wrapped his arms around Midorima to keep him from walking away. “You rest too.”

“I can’t go to bed if you don’t let go of me,” Midorima objected, though he only made a half-hearted effort to pull away.

“Rest,” Takao repeated, pulling Midorima onto the bed with him.

Midorima was suddenly very warm, and he couldn’t quite tell how much of it was because he was lying so close to Takao, in his arms, and how much of it was just his face heating up and his heart beating faster. “Takao—”

“Shhhh. I’m sleeping.”

“...No, you’re not.”

“I am though.” He certainly felt like he was close to sleeping. If Midorima would just be quiet for two seconds, Takao would be out like all the lights in the city.

Hearing Takao’s voice fade more and more with fatigue, Midorima let silence fall over them, watching what he could see of Takao’s face through the dark, and listening to the sound of his breaths evening out. At some point, he had the vague thought that he could probably extract himself from Takao’s grip once Takao was fully asleep, but before he could summon up the will to act on that thought, he found himself also drifting off to sleep.

When Takao awoke, he blinked the sleep out of his eyes… and then blinked several more times in confusion. “Shin-chan?” It wasn’t the first time he had slept around Midorima—he recalled the time after the Phantom lost his shit and they fell asleep in the office against each other—but this was certainly a bit different, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Midorima began slowly drifting into consciousness at the sound of his name, but he was too warm and sleepy to completely process the situation, so he just hummed in response, not even opening his eyes.

“Shin-chan, you gotta get up so that I can get up,” Takao prompted.

At that point, Midorima recognized Takao’s voice, and was confused as to why he sounded so close by. So he opened his eyes, and upon realizing that they were sharing a bed, jolted awake and tried to back up and put space between them… and fell to the floor with a loud  _ thud  _ in the process. “...Good morning, Takao,” he said sheepishly from the ground.

Takao moved so he could look over the edge of the bed inquisitively. “Are you okay?”

Midorima met Takao’s gaze, and then immediately felt his face growing warmer, so he looked away, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Fine,” he muttered, and then, after a moment, made himself look back at Takao. “How is your injury?”

“It's fine. I don't feel like I messed it up that much,” he answered. “Why were we in bed together?”

Any hopes he'd had of simply pretending that had never happened were dashed, it seemed. Midorima flushed. “It was your fault,” he said, maybe a bit more petulantly than he'd intended. “You were tired, so I brought you in here, and then you wouldn't let me leave.”

“Oh.” Interesting. He'd have to be careful about that from now on. “Sorry about that.”

“It's fine,” Midorima assured him… perhaps a bit too quickly, he realized belatedly, clamping his mouth shut and averting his gaze again. He stood up and automatically went to turn on the light—and nothing happened. “...It seems the power is still out.”

“I wonder how long that's gonna last,” Takao mused, getting out of bed. “Him and that Phantom are made for each other. Both of them do some pretty bad damage when they throw temper tantrums.”

Midorima pictured the two of them wreaking havoc together and grimaced. “I can see why they have such an inability to control their collateral damage. With even one member like Aomine on their team, it’s a miracle that they can even live in the same house without people getting hurt, let alone function as a team of superheroes.”

“There are lots of people who would argue if they  _ do  _ function as a team of heroes. You are one of those people,” Takao pointed out.

“I didn’t say they functioned  _ well _ , merely that they function,” Midorima clarified.

“True. But that’s arguable too. I’m gonna make food,” Takao said, heading towards the kitchen. “Oh! I have an idea of what I want to do, now that I’m not selling,” he added over his shoulder.

Midorima followed him, curious. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotta work on this whole superspeed thing though. Do you know anywhere I can practice that?”

Now slightly concerned about whatever idea Takao had that involved his very newly discovered powers, Midorima eyed him warily, but answered his question first. “If you’re looking for wide-open space with few people around, I think you’ll have to go outside of the city. Perhaps along a stretch of highway?”

Takao nodded. “Can I borrow your car then?”

Midorima almost said yes automatically, but then paused with a realization. “Do you even have a license?”

“Yes,” Takao answered. “You can hardly do anything without one.”

“...A  _ legal _ license?”

“Oh. No. Of course not.” Takao waved that off with a short laugh.

Midorima stared for a moment, but couldn’t say he was really surprised. “Then no. I’ll drive you.”

“But Shin-chan! I get bored when you’re at work. I’ll just take the bus or something.”

“You haven’t even told me what this is  _ for _ ,” Midorima said, brow furrowed in confusion and mild concern.

“I’ll tell you when I’ve got the speed worked out. When I do though, I’m gonna need you to time me.”

“...Alright,” Midorima agreed reluctantly, giving up on trying to get more information out of him for the moment. “You'd better not be doing anything dangerous, though.”

“It’s not, don’t worry!” he assured.

“And you’ve got to wait until you’re healed completely.”

“I think you know me well enough to know that won’t happen.”

* * *

Less than a week later, Midorima answered a knock at the door and was surprised to see Nijimura. “How often do you fly from America to Japan, and  _ why _ ?” he asked in lieu of a greeting, as he stepped back to let him in.

“Huh? I’m on summer break. I haven’t left yet,” Nijimura answered. “Takao! Are you serious? Did your shoes  _ actually  _ catch fire?”

Takao emerged from his room, holding said shoes, that did in fact have some scorch marks.

Midorima turned around to look, clearly alarmed. “What did you  _ do _ ?”

“I went  _ very  _ fast,” Takao said with a grin. “Niji-chan’s gonna make me some shoes that don’t catch fire or get holes in them.”

“...That… seems like a good idea…” Midorima said absently, staring at the charred shoes with concern.

“I didn’t get burned, stop looking like that, Shin-chan. It’s just my shoes.”

“Well, it  _ will  _ be your feet it we don’t fix this problem soon,” Nijimura commented wryly. “Come on, let’s get to it.” He nodded his head towards the door and waited for Takao before heading out.

* * *

“Shin-chan! I think I’m ready. I need you to time me.” He handed Midorima a stop watch. “Let me know when you start it, and stop it when I get back.”

Midorima looked up from where he’d been reading on the couch, and took the stopwatch. “From… right here?” he asked, looking slightly doubtful.

“Yeah.” Takao nodded excitedly, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet.

Takao’s energy was contagious, and the spark of excitement in his eyes brought a small smile to Midorima’s face. He put down his book, giving Takao his full attention. “Alright,” he said, pausing a moment with his finger over the start button on the stopwatch to look up and check that Takao was ready before actually pressing the button and saying, “Go!”

And suddenly Takao was gone. Just under ten minutes later he was back. “Time!” he said between gasps for air.

“Nine minutes and forty-two seconds,” Midorima said as he stopped the timer, watching Takao carefully to make sure he wasn’t about to keel over. “Are you alright? Where’d you go?”

“Fine. I just... I just ran to the other end of Tokyo and back,” he told Midorima, walking to the kitchen to grab something to drink.

“Oh,” Midorima said, and then did a double take. “ _ What? _ ”

“Other side of Tokyo. Then back here. Under ten minutes. Oh my God.” Takao sounded both winded and excited at the same time.

Midorima’s brow furrowed as he ran approximated numbers through calculations in his head, his jaw hanging slightly agape when he came up with an answer. “That’s… that’s, quite literally, faster than an airplane,” he informed Takao, looking at him with a mix of awe and lingering concern. “Are you  _ sure  _ you’re fine?”

“Yeah, just exhausted,” Takao assured him. “But just… imagine how fast I could be going if I’d had years to work on this, instead of just a few weeks.” He opened a water bottle and began gulping it down rapidly.

Midorima did imagine that for a minute, and found himself almost frightened by the idea, so he changed the subject. “What was your new career plan, then? And why does it involve your superspeed?”

Takao finished the water bottle before explaining. “Businessmen and lawyers and people like them always seem to have a lot of things that need to get to places quickly, and have a lot of money to pay for it to get there as soon as possible so that they have more time to work on it. I’m sure they’d pay a fortune to have someone who can deliver their documents to the other side of Tokyo in five minutes or less.”

“That's… quite a good idea.” After another moment of consideration, Midorima added, “You might actually make more money than me.”

“That would be an interesting turn of events,” Takao replied. “You really think it's a good idea?”

Midorima nodded. “There's always a demand for services to be provided quickly and conveniently. I think it will be the perfect niche for someone with powers like yours.”

Takao smiled brightly at that. “Thank God. I didn't have any other ideas.”

Midorima might have usually scoffed and said something sarcastic, but… it was nice to see Takao smiling after all the weeks he'd just spent looking so miserable and hopeless. “I'm sure you would have figured something out.” A small smile pulled at his lips. “You've come a long way from where you once were in only a few months. I'm proud of you.”

Takao’s smile somehow brightened even more before he pulled Midorima into a tight hug. “Well, that’s all because of you, Shin-chan.”

“Don’t shortchange yourself on the credit for your own accomplishments, that's foolish,” Midorima objected, but wrapped his arms around Takao and held him just as tightly.

“I’m not. I am, however, acknowledging that I probably wouldn’t have bothered to try and make those accomplishments if I didn’t meet you.” He’d almost died while on drugs several times. He knew that was such a small part of why he’d quit that it barely even counted as a reason. Getting to keep Midorima in his life though . . . he didn’t want to admit it out loud, but to himself, he could admit that that was the real reason he had gone through all of this.

“Well then, I'm glad we met,” Midorima replied matter-of-factly.

“You were glad that we met anyway. I’m great,” Takao said cheerfully, letting go of Midorima.

Now that they were face-to-face again, Midorima found his self-consciousness returning very suddenly, and hid that behind a scoff and a sarcastic, “You’re  _ something _ .”

“We were having a moment, Shin-chan. No need to be sarcastic,” Takao reprimanded.

“I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm straightforward and honest one hundred percent of the time,” Midorima replied, adjusting his glasses and not looking directly at Takao.

“You’re a bad liar, Shin-chan. Worse with the glasses. You’re like an anime character when you adjust them to hide that you’re embarassed.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I only adjust my glasses when they need to be adjusted.”

“Sure, sure, Shin-chan. Whatever you say,” Takao replied with a grin.

Midorima frowned and muttered something—the only discernible word of which was “idiot”—and returned to the couch to continue reading his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally caught a break from the hell that is midterm season in college, so here's a chapter! Maybe leave a comment to cheer me up after two papers and a presentation in two days? -Kate


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I don't know what gets more views, end notes or start notes, but there is an IMPORTANT announcement at the end of this chapter! So if there's anyone who reads start notes and not end ones, this is to tell you guys to look at the end this time. 
> 
> Also, wow I should tell you guys about my school struggles more often. That was the most comments any chapter has gotten so far. Can we do that again if I tell you all that I read all of The Color Purple over the weekend for English and I'm posting this as a break from studying for my Psych test tomorrow?

After meeting the Generation of Miracles, and seeing their destructive power personally, Midorima found himself keeping an eye out for any mention of them in the news or among his colleagues at the hospital. And the more he heard and saw, the more angered he became at the amount of needless destruction, injury, and death they caused—and the casualties  _ multiplied  _ when they were facing superpowered enemies such as the Phantom.

“That’s  _ it! _ ” Midorima burst out angrily one day after seeing on the news that one of the Generation of Miracles’ fights with a super powered criminal was currently happening in close proximity to a school full of children. He stormed into his room and began to pack a bag with medical supplies.

“Shin-chan, I’m hom—what are you doing? You don’t have work until tonight,” Takao said with a frown as he saw Midorima packing his bag.

“I'm going to go attempt to help take care of the mess those Miracle fools are making, because the EMTs are  _ not  _ going to get there in time to help everyone,” he replied, his voice sharp with anger.

“I—what? You want to play hero too, now? No way, it’s dangerous.” He noticed the news program playing and winced—he’d glanced at the TV just in time to see the super powered criminal stomp his foot and destroy an entire soccer field, foreboding dark crevices opening up as the ground shuddered violently. “ _ Very  _ dangerous.”

“No, I'm not interested in being a hero. I'm just a doctor who wants to do his goddamn job and help people,” Midorima said, zipping up the bag and standing up to sling it over his shoulder. He paused for a moment in consideration, then also grabbed the gun from his bedside drawer, making sure the safety was on, before stowing it carefully in his jacket.

“Your job is in a hospital,” Takao insisted, standing in front of the door.

“My job is wherever there are people who need me,” Midorima said firmly as he approached Takao, stopping just inches away and looking down at him.

Takao searched Midorima’s face and sighed. He wasn't going to be able to change his mind. “I'll come too.”

Midorima’s first instinct was to object, but then the more reasonable part of his mind kicked in and reminded him that Takao was perfectly capable of taking care of himself—more so now than ever, since he had been training with his newfound powers—so instead he just nodded, and the two of them set out to the scene of the fight.

Takao stayed on the outskirts of the fight, patrolling around to make sure that nothing was going to come near Midorima when he ran into someone he didn’t recognize. “Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere near that,” he said, blocking the redhead’s way.

He gave Takao a funny look and made to go around him. “I could say the same to you. Now get outta my way, I’m trying to help, here.”

Takao moved to block him again, using his super speed this time. “Right, right. And I know that you aren’t working for the earthquake guy those losers are fighting... how, exactly? Sorry, I’ve got a friend in there, so no potentially dangerous strangers allowed.”

He blinked in surprise at Takao’s display of superpowers, and the narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “How do I know  _ you’re  _ not working for the earthquake asshole? Who the hell are you?” The temperature of the air around him began to rise, just slightly.

“Oh, feels like some kind of superpower,” Takao commented as he felt the heat rise—something that he might have been easily written off, if he hadn’t been surrounded by people with superpowers at the moment. “You don’t know that I’m not working for him, but I’ve got an overachiever of a doctor out there trying to help people, and I’m not letting you through if you could put him into more danger than he’s putting himself in.”

“A doctor?” he said, and the temperature went back to normal as he relaxed, speaking with a cautious optimism. “If you’re telling the truth, that would be a huge weight off my shoulders. I’ve been cleaning up after these Miracle assholes’ messes for over a year now, and let me tell you, that is a really hard job when my best skill is setting shit on fire.” He snapped his fingers to light a small fire over his hand as an example, and then waved to put it out again a moment later.

“Why the hell would someone with fire powers be doing damage control?” Takao asked suspiciously.

“One, my second-best skill is firefighting,” he replied, flashing a badge before continuing, “And two, you see anybody else going in there?” He gestured around them—there were several police and emergency vehicles present in the area, and there were sirens in the near distance, but they all kept a safe radius from the fight. “Their way of dealing with the collateral damage problem is to evacuate as many people as possible and then wait for the shitstorm to blow over before going in.” He scowled. “I disagree. Especially with a school full of kids trapped in there. I say anyone who can defend themselves oughta get in there and help people who need to be helped.”

Takao frowned but stepped aside. “If I hear anything about someone with fire powers causing trouble I'm gonna personally kick your ass,” he warned.

“Yeah, yeah, nice to meet you too,” he said sarcastically, unfazed by the threat. “Name’s Kagami Taiga.” He continued on his way at a jog now that he’d been delayed, and called over his shoulder, “If you got a problem with the way I do things, I’ll fight you anytime, asshole!”

“I’ll take you up on that!” Takao called back before continuing to patrol around, now keeping an eye on both Kagami and Midorima, using his vision power when they eventually went inside the school building, until the fight finally ended and the emergency vehicles began to arrive in droves.

* * *

Just a few days later, the heroes had yet another destructive battle--this time versus a group of criminals with various explosive powers, one of whom blew several holes in the wall of a busy office building. The fight had moved some way down the street before Midorima entered said building, but the holes were still smoking, several small flames scattered throughout the wreckage, distantly threatening to consume what had survived the blasts. He quickly texted Takao, asking him to alert the fire department if he came across them, and then set to work treating all the injured people scattered around.

It soon became apparent that the blasts had been even more severe than it had appeared from the outside, as Midorima found himself gradually overwhelmed by the amount and severity of the injuries. After an hour, he was already exhausted, so when he rounded a corner to find someone performing CPR on an unconscious victim, his first reaction was relief.

...Then, he realized the person performing the CPR was Takao, and he found himself more confused and concerned than anything.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he approached, kneeling opposite Takao and assessing the victim’s condition.

“Helping. I know you're not going to leave until everyone is safe, but this building is going to come down before you can do that on your own. So, I'm helping so that you’ll leave before that happens.” Takao explained as he continued to pump the victim's chest.

Midorima nodded upon concluding that Takao had actually chosen the correct course of action for that particular victim, and was performing the CPR correctly. He was rather surprised, but bit his tongue for the moment, instead focusing on the task at hand, moving over to the next nearest unconscious victim and checking for signs of life.

When Midorima said nothing, Takao continued,“I'm sure I've told you that I know basic first aid. You tried to teach me that one time, so I'm sure I told you. ”

Midorima took a moment to search his memory and then replied haltingly, “I… believe I recall.”

“Yeah, you were trying to teach me and I told you that I remembered it because you pump the chest to the same beat as that American song, the staying alive one, after you were all ‘it’s a crucial life skill.’” Takao did his worst impression of Midorima’s voice, pretending to adjust glasses he didn’t have before getting back to work.

Midorima opened his mouth to reply sarcastically, but he was cut of as a gust of wind made the fires flare up, and then something exploded on the floor above them, making the entire building shudder. “New plan. I’m going to check who’s alive, and you get them out of this building before it collapses,” he said, feeling a renewed sense of urgency as he went to check on some other nearby victims.

Takao might have hesitated if he didn’t know time was very important. He didn’t want to leave Midorima alone, but he had to clear the people out to get Midorima out. With the help of his super speed they were able to clear out the building before it fell apart, shaking the ground around them. “Let’s get them to a hospital and go home.”

* * *

Midorima continued his habit of keeping track of the Generation of Miracles’ escapades, but now with the purpose of finding opportunities between his shifts at the hospital to go help the unfortunate victims of the heroes’ collateral damage.

Takao went when he could, but more often than not it was a last minute decision for Midorima to go, since they didn’t exactly get memos for when people would want to pick a fight with the Generation of Miracles. He did pick up a police radio at some point, courtesy of Koutarou, so he could stay updated on when things were really dangerous, and took to keeping up with Midorima’s work schedule.  

Surprisingly, things went relatively smoothly. Occasionally, a fight would escalate or move very suddenly and without warning, forcing him to retreat (or an emergency extraction by Takao, in one case that involved another collapsing building), but for the most part, Midorima was careful enough to stay out of the line of fire. The Generation of Miracles didn’t even seem to be aware of his frequent presence during their fights until a couple of weeks in—at which point, it became both safer and more dangerous, since occasionally the stupider ones would drop by to say hello if they spotted him, but the smarter ones (well, Momoi) would make an effort to lead the battle away from wherever Midorima was working.

It wasn’t until over two months in that he finally encountered a worst-case scenario, and realized just how dangerous it was to be involved with the heroes, even from the sidelines.

He’d been just about to leave to go to the store when he’d heard the sounds of a fight breaking out, just close enough to be in his range of hearing. After grabbing his gear, he’d first gone directly to where he heard the most destruction happening, but had retreated the moment he’d seen it was the Phantom they were fighting against. There were a lot of risks he was willing to take to help people, but the odds of him coming out alive after being in close proximity to both the Phantom  _ and  _ Aomine were not good. And overall, he’d rather stay alive so he could save more people.

So, he stayed on the outskirts of the fight for the most part—or so he thought, until he heard the sound of howling wind approaching, louder and louder, and felt a sudden chill settle in the air around him. He hurriedly finishing bandaging the wound on the person he was treating and sent them off to run to safety, and then packed up his supplies, but just before he could make a run for it as well, his attention was caught by someone flying through the air, an ice-cold gust of wind slamming them into a nearby building.

Midorima rushed over automatically, and luckily had been close enough that he was able to catch the person—who he now realized, with a jolt of surprise, was Kise—before laying him carefully on the ground. He took off his jacket and folded it under Kise’s head to cushion it somewhat before examining his wounds. He’d definitely hit his head quite hard, judging by the fact that he hadn’t regained consciousness, even after half a minute, but that wasn’t the most urgent problem he had—Midorima grimaced as he noted that there were several lacerations all over his body and a shard of ice still embedded in his arm. He could quite possibly bleed out before they could get him to the hospital to treat his head.

Still running half on instinct, Midorima called for an ambulance as he began the process of treating his wounds, attempting to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible. After hanging up the phone, the increasingly deafening sounds of destruction grabbed his attention, and, glancing over in the direction from which the cold wind—and now snow—was still blowing, he felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach. The fight was very clearly progressing in his direction at an alarming rate, and it was a  _ violent  _ one.

“Did you get a new member?” the Phantom asked, sparing Midorima a glance filled with contempt before sending two large ice shards towards him and Kise and returning his attention to warding off the other Miracles.

Murasakibara, who had already been on his way over to check on Kise, batted the ice shards out of the air, and they shattered against the ground. He paused, brow furrowed in confusion. “Hah? Mido-chin, did you join us without telling me?”

“No,” Midorima called over flatly.

“Oh. Okay.” Another pause. “Is Kise-chin gonna be okay?”

“If you fools are capable of covering me, then yes,” Midorima replied impatiently, trying to concentrate on what he was doing.

“...’Kay.” And Murasakibara returned to the fight.

As the fight progressed it got gradually closer and closer to Midorima because the Phantom was overtaking the Miracles, even though they still outnumbered him three to one. As they got closer the Phantom continued to glance towards Midorima or, more specifically, towards Kise. Midorima seemed more like the mild inconvenience that he would need to get through to take out the hero. He threw Aomine aside with a strong gust of wind, and kept him aside for the moment by freezing him to the building he hit, and then approached Midorima and Kise with unhurried steps. “Move,” he commanded, not even looking at Midorima.

Midorima’s instincts were screaming at him to run—from the icy chill than was beginning to sink deep into his skin, to the way the Phantom had just batted aside  _ Aomine _ as if he was nothing, to the dark and inhuman look of his eyes, there was more than enough reason to feel like death itself was upon him. But Kise was still very much bleeding, and wouldn't survive much more injury if the Phantom got to him, and Midorima just couldn't let that happen. He didn't lose his patients if he could help it. So, he pulled out his gun, switched the safety off, and aimed directly for the Phantom’s heart before pulling the trigger.

The Phantom disappeared and appeared even closer than before, now giving Midorima his full attention with an annoyed stare. “Let me be clear. I don’t care what you do with civilian casualties. Continue to take care of those how you wish. But do not get in my way of eliminating the ‘heroes’ if you plan to continue living.”

Midorima had been getting used to Takao’s super speed, but this was something else entirely—there was no blur of motion, the Phantom simply disappeared, out of reach of every one of Midorima’s enhanced senses, and then reappeared with no warning. It was alarming, to say the least, and Midorima couldn’t help but shoot again in a panicked reflex when he reappeared. Instead of answering—he doubted he could get many words out at the moment anyway, it felt like his heart was beating in his throat—he kept the gun trained on the Phantom with his left hand, while using his right hand and knee to continue tying a makeshift tourniquet around Kise’s left arm, which had the worst of the injuries.

The chill only got worse as the Phantom got closer, causing Midorima’s hand to feel numb around his gun. A large shard of ice materialized in the Phantom’s hand like a sword with a deadly sharp point, and Midorima immediately switched his aim to dispatch of the intimidating weapon, shooting at the fragile tip to shatter it.  _ Three left.  _ The spear reformed like nothing had happened.

The Phantom disappeared and reappeared to Midorima’s left, closer than before, and he shot again.  _ Two left. _

Again, the bullet passed through empty air, and the Phantom reappeared closer and to his right. He shot again, the sense of impending doom increasing.  _ One left. _

The Phantom disappeared again, and this time, in his desperation, Midorima managed to catch the slightest sound that he hadn't before. This time, he found himself already turning his head back to the left, largely out of instinct, but that instinct was confirmed when he heard the noise again, and identified it as the distant sound of rushing wind—a detail that could be easily overlooked as background noise were he not listening for it. He pulled the trigger at the exact same moment the Phantom appeared this time, having roughly determined the location based on the sound, but he swore as the bullet passed through empty air yet again, the Phantom teleporting away almost immediately after he'd appeared.  _ None left. _

Midorima thought fast, and came up with one last line of defense. He stood, looking back to his right in accordance with the pattern so far, and the moment he heard the slightest rushing of wind, he took aim and actually flung the gun itself at the spot he anticipated would be occupied by the Phantom in the next split-second.

For a moment blue eyes looked at him with mild bewilderment before narrowing in anger as blood started dripping from the Phantom’s forehead where Midorima had hit him. He looked like he was about to attack seriously this time when he noticed the heroes getting back up and heading towards them.

He gave Midorima one last look, one that appeared to be memorizing his features in case they ran into each other again, and hurled one last ice crystal at him before disappearing with no sign of coming back.

Midorima saw the projectile coming straight for his stomach, and might have been able to dodge it if his legs hadn't given out underneath him the moment he tried to sidestep. He stumbled to his knees and had no time to brace himself before the ice struck him, embedding itself deep in his left shoulder, missing his heart by inches. He cried out in pain and instinctively tried to grasp at the wound, but that just caused him to cut his hand on the sharp edges of the ice.

The pain in his hand made him stop and try to gather his thoughts, trying to decide what was the best course of treatment, just like he would with any other patient, but he was feeling too light-headed. He vaguely registered the feeling of the ice melting and cold water beginning to drip down his arm, along with increasing amounts of blood. He tried to stay calm, at least, but his heart wouldn't stop racing, and it was getting a little hard to breathe, and that was when he realized,  _ oh, I'm going into shock.  _ And everything after that was a blur of panicked voices, sirens, and semi-consciousness until everything finally went black.

* * *

Takao paced around the hospital room, anxiously waiting for Midorima to wake up.

The footsteps were the first thing Midorima heard when he began to regain consciousness. Their steady rhythm was almost comforting, something for him to latch onto as he woke up, until he gained enough awareness to recognize that they were quick, anxious steps. When he opened his eyes, he was only a little surprised, and mostly relieved, to see that Takao was the one pacing around. He opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t realize how dry his throat was, so it came out as a cough instead.

“Shin-chan!” Takao was at his side in an instant, holding out a glass of water for him. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

Midorima drank half the glass in small, careful sips and then considered for a moment before answering, “...Not dead.”

“Yes, you’re lucky for that part. I can’t believe you went up against that ice maniac alone. What were you thinking, Shin-chan?”

“Well, that certainly wasn’t my intent,” he grumbled.

“You went to a place where they were taking on the Phantom. What  _ was  _ your intent?”

“To treat all the innocent bystanders before they become casualties, as usual,” Midorima replied. “I thought I was far enough away, but I failed to account for the unpredictable, fast-paced nature of the fight. That’s all.”

_ “That’s all?  _ Shin-chan you could be  _ dead!”  _ He tried to sound angry, but his eyes showed nothing but worry.

“I am well aware.” He could still very vividly see the Phantom’s cold eyes staring at him, blood running down his face and malice pouring off of him in waves as he took that final shot. “However, had I not interfered, Kise would most certainly be dead.”

Takao looked a little torn at that. “Your life still matters though,” he said firmly. “It matters to me in particular, more than pretty much everyone else’s.”

Midorima opened his mouth, fully intending to retort with some sort of exasperated remark on all the times Takao had ever worried  _ him  _ by taking needless risks with his life on the line—but then, something about the combination of Takao’s words and the look in his eyes suddenly  _ hit  _ Midorima, and he reconsidered his words, not wanting to interrupt… whatever this was. “You… are very important to me, as well,” he said quietly, not breaking eye contact.

“I'm really glad you're okay. When I got the call saying that you'd been up against the Phantom I thought I was about to be told that you were dead.”

Takao’s tone sent a pang of guilt through Midorima’s chest. “I apologize,” he replied. “I truly did not intend to fight him, I assure you. Nor did I intend to cause so much concern on my behalf.”

Takao offered a tired smile. “I think I’m beginning to get how I’ve been making you feel for years with my medical history, so I’m pretty sure I should be the one apologizing to you.”

“I'm rather used to it by now,” Midorima replied, smiling wryly in return.

“Please don’t make me get used to it. It’s awful.”

“I'll certainly do my best.”

Takao smiled and carefully hugged Midorima, being mindful of his injury as he did so.

Midorima wrapped his good arm around Takao, appreciating the warmth after the bone-chilling coldness of his encounter with the Phantom.

“Promise you won’t do any more hero doctor stuff until you’re recovered?”

“I promise.”

* * *

Kise announced his arrival with an exuberant “Midorimacchi!!!” as a disgruntled-looking Aomine pushed his wheelchair into the hospital room and the rest of the superhero team followed in behind them.

Midorima could feel a headache coming on just from his tone of voice, so he reached for his glasses and put them on before sitting up, levelling a flat stare at Kise. “Let me guess…” he said with a nod towards the wheelchair. “They told you that you needed extended bed rest to recover from the head trauma, you proved yourself entirely incapable of making the responsible decision to listen to them, and so they confined you to a wheelchair. Correct?”

Momoi cut in before Kise could respond with a dramatic lie. “Yes. That’s  _ exactly  _ what happened.”

Kise pouted at both of them. “That’s a rude way to say hello, Midorimacchi.”

“How are you feeling, Ryo-chan?” Takao asked from where he'd been sitting at Midorima’s bedside.

Kise grinned at him brightly. “ _ That's  _ more like it! At least I know Kazucchi cares,” he said, sticking his tongue out petulantly at Midorima. The grin dropped from his face briefly as a sudden dizzy spell washed over him, and he braced himself against the chair to make sure he didn't fall out.

“Stop getting so excited, idiot, you're gonna hurt yourself,” Aomine snapped grouchily, but also placed a careful steadying hand on Kise’s shoulder until he seemed to be alright.

Kise laughed nervously. “I kinda feel like Murasakicchi sat on my head,” he said, finally answering Takao’s question.

“If I did that you would probably die,” Murasakibara observed dully, a half-empty bag of chips in his hand.

“Exactly. I probably would have died if it weren't for Midorimacchi.” Kise looked at Midorima. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

Midorima just nodded, and was debating whether he should actually say anything when he was interrupted.

“Alright, alright, let’s just get to the point already, yeah?” Aomine said impatiently, then levelled a serious gaze at Midorima. “You’re in danger.”

Midorima was a little caught off guard by the sudden topic shift, but he caught on quickly—it wasn’t as though he was going to forget his encounter with the Phantom anytime soon. The memories were still as fresh in his mind, as if it had just happened hours ago, especially the intense glare promising death as he’d thrown that last shard of ice at him. “Yes, I figured as much,” he answered, and then raised an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose that means you’ve come here to propose a solution to that problem?”

Kise’s face lit up with another bright grin. “Come live with us!!!”

Midorima looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “...What?”

Momoi took preventative measures against Kise’s dramatics again by interrupting. “If the Phantom is going to be coming after you, the safest place you can be is surrounded by four people who are used to fighting him on a regular basis,” she explained. “We have room in our house! And since you’ve been coming along to most of our fights recently, it’ll probably be more convenient for you anyway.”

“Holy shit, Shin-chan, I think they're being serious,” Takao stage-whispered.

“Kazucchi, you could come too! You come along to our fights sometimes, and you're really helpful!” Kise said enthusiastically.

“Oh. No. That's not happening. I'm not going to be part of a superhero team,” Takao said firmly with a shake of his head.

“I can't say I'm particularly enthused about the idea either,” Midorima said, skeptical.

Momoi sighed. “I know it doesn't seem like a great idea, and that you're probably much happier wherever you're living right now, but… well…”

“But,” Aomine interrupted, not willing to sit through Momo’s polite version and instead stating it bluntly, “if you don't move in with us, or find yourself a gang of super powered buddies as powerful as us, you're going to be putting yourself  _ and  _ the people close to you in serious danger.” He looked pointedly to Takao, then back at Midorima, expression grim.

Midorima wouldn't have considered it at all, except now, the idea of Takao being injured or killed because  _ he'd  _ gone and pissed off an infamous supervillain pushed him very close to instant agreement.

Momoi sensed the shift in his emotions, and offered him a sympathetic smile. “It would be really great to have a doctor around. We all really do appreciate what you did for Ki-chan, and we don't want you to get hurt because of it.”

Midorima was still a little reluctant, but after a long silence, he nodded. “Very well.”

“Wha—Shin-chan?” Takao looked between the heroes and Midorima with confusion. “You just went up against that guy with a team of superheroes, who didn't protect you—you were protecting one of  _ them _ —and now you want to just go do that full-time?”

“It isn't that I'm particularly interested in becoming some kind of superhero,” Midorima explained, grimacing at just the  _ idea  _ of using that title for himself. “It’s about taking preventative measures to make sure you and my family don’t get killed by the Phantom.”

“Wouldn’t teaming up with them just put you more on his radar? If I had wanted to keep away from Haizaki I wouldn’t have gone prancing around with his enemies. That puts a bigger target on my head,” Takao tried to reason.

“I’d rather purposefully draw his attention while surrounded by powerful people than be caught off guard one day and lose you,” Midorima said, his voice quiet and deadly serious.

Takao stared at him for a moment before turning his attention to the heroes. “Oh look, visiting hours are over. Only people who currently live with him allowed,” he said with saccharine sweetness, walking over and putting his arms around Momoi and Aomine’s shoulders to steer them out of the room, hoping Kise would wheel himself out, but perfectly willing to move him next if he had to. He wasn’t sure what he would do about the giant purple one.

Aomine frowned and shrugged off the arm. “Keep you hands off me unless you want the worst case of static shock you’ve ever had,” he muttered, only half-serious in the threat.

“Whaaaat? Why can’t we stay and watch the show?” Kise whined, watching Takao usher them out of the room with a pout.

“No show here. Just roommates hanging out while one of them recovers,” Takao said as he put his arm back around Aomine, firmer this time, and continued to lead them out the door. “It was nice having you, but goodbye.” He let go when they were standing outside the door, turning back to look at Murasakibara and Kise expectantly.

Murasakibara shrugged ambivalently. “Let’s go, Kise-chin,” he drawled, grabbing the wheelchair by one handle and dragging it behind him, using the other hand to empty the last crumbs of chips from the bag into his mouth as they left.

As soon as the door was closed Takao turned back to Midorima. “And joining them is the best solution you can think of? Really? If you don’t remember, I’m the one that taught you how to shoot, and my friends are the ones that taught you how to fight. I’m capable of taking care of myself just fine, so don’t use me as a reason to do something dumb. As for your family, I’ve never heard of the Phantom targeting an enemy's family members, but there are better ways to keep people off the radar than putting yourself on it. Hell, I’ve known you for years and I don’t know anything about your family except that you’ve got a little sister who makes duct tape wallets.”

Midorima sighed. “You are a skilled fighter, and I do know that you can defend yourself, but this is an entirely different caliber of opponent, incomparable to any you’ve ever faced before.”

“So the idea is, I can’t handle this, so you’re going to leave me by myself, right?” He arched an eyebrow.

“The  _ idea _ is that any threat posed to you by the Phantom would be eliminated by diverting his attention,” Midorima replied. “And besides that, they  _ did  _ invite you to join as well. You would be protected that way by the strength of the team. You don’t have to be alone.”

“I’m not joining a superhero team,” Takao reiterated.

“I’m not particularly excited about it either, but it is currently the best option, given the situation. So, why not?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but up until recently I was a criminal. I’ve killed before, Shin-chan. Doesn’t exactly sound like hero material to me. Neither do they, but they try. When I go out to one of their scenes it’s to protect you, not because I’m looking out for the greater good like you are and like they’re trying to do.”

Midorima paused for a moment to pinpoint what exactly it was about that that bothered him, and then said in a quiet but matter-of-fact tone, “You’re not a bad person, Takao. You are a good person to whom bad things have happened. I understand that most people may not know enough about you to know that, but I do.”

“That’s all fine and good, and I’m glad that you think that about me, but that doesn’t change my stance on it,” Takao replied, not quite looking at Midorima.

Midorima just stared for a silent moment, as if he could convince Takao to change his mind just by looking at him, but, well… he didn’t have  _ that  _ kind of super-vision, after all. So he let the silence settle in for a bit before speaking again. “I’m going to do this—with or without you—because it’s what’s best, for both your safety and mine,” he stated, not taking his eyes off of Takao.

“You’ll call me, right? If things are dangerous?” Takao asked, looking back at Midorima like he’d lost something.

“Of course,” Midorima replied, stern gaze softening at the look on Takao’s face.

“I’m gonna step out for a minute. I need to get some water,” he said.

As he was leaving, Midorima noticed him pulling out the pack of cigarettes, and he opened his mouth to object, but Takao was already gone. He knew that Takao would only use them to quell the urge to relapse into worse addictions, but... he hadn’t seen the cigarettes in a while—Takao had been doing really well—so seeing it happen again dropped a heavy weight of guilt into Midorima’s stomach. He was glad, then, that in Takao’s brief absence, Momoi returned to ask if he’d made a decision, so he could say “yes” now—if he’d had any more time to contemplate it, he might have changed his mind again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Time for the announcement. For anyone who didn't read the start notes THIS IS IMPORTANT. 
> 
> Now, this plot is by no means over. There's still lots of things to resolve. However, there is only one chapter left of this particular story. That's because this is part of a series that Maddie and I have been working on. It's been a little over a year in the works. The next part will focus more on Kuroko Tetsuya's story, but Midotaka will still be there. 
> 
> This was actually not supposed to be as long of a story as it is. We were just going to do a brief back story because I got a little obsessed with Midorima and Takao's past as we were working on the other one. We mentioned their first meeting, and did a flashback to the scene where Midorima left (which we had to change a lot by the time we got to that scene in this story, and completely swapped out for something new so we wouldn't spoil this story for anyone who didn't read this first) and suddenly I couldn't stop thinking about their past and asked Maddie if we could write some of it. And then we fell in love with this story as well, and decided to make it into an entire back story. 
> 
> We also have a document full of one shots based around this story and the one coming up. So there is a lot more for you guys to read from this AU. Some of the one shots will be things like some of the other Generation of Miracles' backstories, and just things that didn't fit into any of the stories but we thought were important or wanted to write, like Takao meeting Shin-chan's family. Or Takao's meeting with Haizaki while Shin-chan was taking his final and Scorpios were last in luck. I found out Haizaki is also a Scorpio (I was trying to find out if he was a cancer because I thought it would be funny if he was also Takao's lucky item) and Maddie and I laughed about those two having the worst day ever together, and then decided to write it. We also get some more Nijimura back story. In both one shots and the upcoming fic. So lots to look forward to! 
> 
> As for the story that this one is more or less a prequel to. We see a lot more of why Kuroko became a villain. We get more insight into the heroes' lives, and we see a lot more of Akashi. I don't know how much Maddie wants me to tell you guys, so that's where I'm going to leave that, but I hope you're all as excited as we are for this series. We've put a lot of work into it. We are still putting work into it. And all of your support has meant the world to us. Thank you so much. We read every single comment and it makes our day when you leave them. So once again, thank you all for reading this, and I hope you'll stick with us for the rest of it. -Kate


	12. Chapter 12

Midorima was initially relieved to see that Takao visited his hospital room again the very next day, thinking maybe this meant he wasn’t as upset about the whole situation as he had seemed to be the day before. But he quickly realized that was not the case—something about Takao was _off_. Midorima could always tell when his smiles weren’t real.

After that, the visits grew more infrequent and more brief. (He tried to pretend he wasn’t keeping count, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that he saw even Momoi and Kise more than Takao over the next couple of weeks.) Midorima appreciated the gesture, but when Takao’s presence seemed so perfunctory and detached, it just fed the pit of guilt growing in his stomach rather than brought him comfort.

When Midorima was finally discharged, Takao was there to make sure that Midorima got home safely and settled in, but only stayed until he seemed stable enough to be on his own. After just a couple of days, Takao seemed to completely disappear.

After one full day without a single sign of Takao, Midorima was a little concerned, but he’d been gone that long before. Near the end of the second day, when he hadn’t even gotten any replies to his texts, and night fell with still no signs of Takao coming home, Midorima was considerably more concerned. Since he couldn’t reach Takao, he tried calling Takao’s friends, but didn’t get anywhere until he called Riko.

_“Hello?”_

“Riko, have you heard from Takao? I haven’t seen him in two days, and he hasn’t been answering his phone,” Midorima asked, sitting on his bed and tapping his foot on the floor anxiously—he’d been pacing during the previous calls, but that proved a bit too strenuous for his current state of recovery.

 _“I think his phone died,”_ she said, and he could almost hear her eyeroll. _“...Wait, hang on, you didn’t know he was here? He’s at my place. He’s been camped out on my couch going through my chips.”_

“...No, he didn’t tell me. He just disappeared once I returned from the hospital,” he replied, voice a little subdued as his mind began to race with conflicting thoughts—he was relieved that Takao was safe, but a bit upset that he hadn’t bothered to let him _know_ that and had let him worry for two days instead… and then after he’d thought for a moment, guilt and regret began to creep in as he wondered if he had really made the wrong decision and ruined everything.

 _“Do you want me to put him on the phone?”_ she asked. _“He didn’t say he was upset with you or anything.”_

Midorima wanted to believe her, since she’d known Takao longer than he had, but he also couldn’t ignore the doubts that crowded his thoughts even as he said, “Yes, I’d like to talk to him.”

 _“Hang on just a second,”_ she told him before there was the sound of movement and then speaking. _“It’s Midorima. You didn’t tell him you were here?”_

 _“Must have slipped my mind,”_ came the distant sound of Takao’s reply.

_“Well you worried him. Tell him you’re okay.”_

And then the phone changed hands. _“Hey Shin-chan.”_

“You could have answered at least _one_ of my texts, just to tell me you were safe,” Midorima said without preamble.

 _“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”_ And he did sound sorry. _“I’ll be back soon. I’m fine.”_

Midorima sighed, and in the following moment of silence he could almost _feel_ all the things unsaid that were hanging between them. But that wasn’t a conversation he particularly wanted to have over the phone, so he pushed back his still-racing thoughts for the moment. “Alright. But this call is not ending until you have physically plugged your phone into a charger, with Riko as your witness.”

Takao gave a half-hearted laugh. _“Yeah, sure.”_ Again there was the sound of movement and the phone exchanging hands.

 _“He took my charger to do it, but his phone is plugged in.”_ Riko told Midorima about thirty seconds later.

_“Thank you, Riko.”_

The moment Riko ended the call, she looked at Takao expectantly, arms crossed, and just said, “So. Explain.”

Takao fell back onto the couch. “Explain what?”

“Why you’ve apparently been hiding from Midorima in my apartment for two days,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, opening a bag of chips and reaching for the remote.

“Bullshit,” she said immediately, snatching the remote out of his reach. “What happened?” She narrowed her eyes threateningly. “Do I have to kick his ass?”

Takao’s eyes went wide, and he sat up straight. “No, don’t do that! He just got out of the hospital!”

“Then start talking,” Riko said, sitting on the arm of the couch and glaring at him. “...Unless you want me to kick _your_ ass.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just being stupid. It’s not even the same as last time, so I don’t know why I’m avoiding him.”

Riko kept staring intently. “What ‘last time’? You’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

“He’s leaving me again!” Takao burst out before frowning as he realized what he’d said. He took a deep breath, and continued in a calmer tone, but he wouldn’t make eye contact. “He’s leaving again, and again I’m not good enough to keep up with him. I quit drugs, I quit dealing, I’m living a legal life. I’ve even saved a few people. And he’s still leaving me for something better. And I _know_ it’s different. I know I can still see him this time, but I just thought . . . I don’t know. I thought things were finally where they should be.”

Riko paused for a moment, then shook her head with a sigh. “You dumbass,” she said with equal parts exasperation and affection. She stood and walked over to where Takao’s phone was currently plugged into the wall, turning it on. “Listen, I can’t really speak for Midorima’s questionable decision to join the Miracle idiots, but I don’t believe for a second he sees it as ‘something better’ than you.” She entered the passcode into his phone and tapped the screen a few times. “And if you don’t agree, look at the forty-two missed calls and twenty-seven texts you got from him all within the last day or so. And that’s not even counting the ones I’m sure you got and ignored _before_ your phone died.”

Suddenly, it buzzed in her hand, and as she glanced at the new notification, a smile pulled at her lips. She brought the phone over to Takao and handed it to him so he could see the new text message from Midorima that simply said: _Come home soon._

“He doesn’t think you’re not good enough,” she finished, sitting down next to him on the couch.

Takao frowned at the text. “I know he doesn’t. He asked me to come with him. Both times. That’s not really the problem. It’s not that he thinks I’m not good enough. It’s that I’m really not. When he was leaving to be a doctor I was a dealing drug addict. Associating with me would have been bad for his career, and he was just getting started and had worked so hard. And now . . . I’m not cut out for being a superhero. He’s going to be out there putting himself on the line for other people, but I’d pick him over a building full of civilians. I wouldn’t be out there for them. And not that long ago I was the kind of guy that the hero team in a comic book would arrest during their montage leading up to the main villain.”

“Well, you’re not that person anymore,” Riko responded firmly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Then she hesitated before continuing more uncertainly. “‘Cause, you know… people change. Things change. But you’ve still got a lot of people who care about you. And, uh… you know, you don’t have to be a _superhero_ to be a good person, I mean—”

“I’m still in love with him,” Takao interrupted before she could continue rambling. He didn’t like the direction it was going in. He wasn’t sure he liked the one he’d brought it in either, but he’d just said the first thing that came to mind.

Riko blinked in surprise at the sudden change in topic, but then she smiled a little in relief—she knew what to say to this one. “You should tell him that,” she said simply, then handed him the remote in exchange for his phone, which she put back on the charger.

“I’ll think about it. Can I stay here for a little while longer?”

“Sure,” she said, heading towards the hallway to her room to give him some time alone. She stopped in the doorway and said, “As long as you keep your damn phone charged. I’m not your secretary.”

* * *

The next day Takao walked into the apartment and waved sheepishly at Midorima when he spotted him on the couch. “Heya, Shin-chan.”

After a few days alone in an uncomfortably quiet apartment, Takao’s presence was practically a beam of sunlight, and Midorima couldn’t help but smile, despite efforts to keep it subdued. “Welcome back.”

“I’m gonna make lunch. I’ve been living on chips for three days because I’m scared of Ri-chan’s kitchen. Do you want something to eat?”

“Well… yes, but your only options are leftovers my family brought over, or to go grocery shopping, as I haven’t quite managed to do that since my release from the hospital.”

“I can work with leftovers. I’ll heat something up for us.” He flashed a bright smile at Midorima.

They ate together and then Takao looked around the apartment. “Okay, so you’re going to have to tell me what you need packed, because you’re not doing any heavy lifting while you’re injured.”

Midorima slowly turned to level a glare at him. “Oh, is that so? Are you certain that I shouldn’t just try to carry large boxes full of my belongings, despite my recent grievous injury?”

Takao didn’t give any indication that he knew what Midorima could possibly be referring to. “Yeah, especially since you hurt your shoulder. It’s bad enough you’re going to be living with those idiots while you’re hurt, you’re not going to be an idiot and hurt yourself more.”

Midorima opened his mouth to call Takao out on his (probably willful) obliviousness, but after a moment’s thought, decided it wasn’t worth it, and just sighed. “You should take your own advice, in the future,” he muttered irritably, then slowly pushed himself to his feet. “In any case… before we get to the heavy lifting, I thought it would be wise to go through my belongings and pare them down to the essentials, so that there will be less to move in the first place.”

“Alright. And you can always come back for some other stuff if you need anything later.”

* * *

“Shin-chan, why do you still have all of these?” Takao asked as he flipped through a file cabinet, recognizing several names on the medical files. Then his eyes lit up. “Do you have one for me?”

“Of course I do; it’s the most extensive one,” Midorima said with a scoff from the other side of the room, where he was sorting through medical books.

“I’ve gotta see it!” Takao said excitedly, looking for the largest file and pulling it out.

Midorima was ambivalent… until he remembered what was at the very end of that file. “No, you can’t look at it,” he said, realizing too late that the sudden urgency in his voice would most definitely invoke Takao’s interest.

Takao’s eyes lit up at that, a grin spreading across his face. “I _can’t,_ huh?” he asked, opening the file eagerly.  

“Stop it. Put that away,” Midorima demanded, and crossed the room in a few long strides, reaching out to grab the file.

Takao used his super speed to get to the other side of the room, lazily flipping through the papers. “Wow, I don’t remember half of these injuries,” he commented.

Midorima inwardly cursed Takao’s power, and followed him across the room again. “Give that back,” he insisted.

“Never!” Takao went back to the other side of the room and let out what could only be described as a cackle. They repeated this pattern several times while Takao browsed the file, until he finally got to the last page. “Things I do not understand about Takao Kazunari,” he read aloud. “Oh, this is going to be good. Maybe I can provide you with some answers.”

Dread gripped Midorima’s stomach—that was it, the exact thing he did not want Takao to see, under any circumstances. He felt his face beginning to heat up just from the memories of what he’d written there. “ _Please_ don’t read that,” he muttered.

“I _have_ to read it,” Takao countered. “Number one: _‘incredibly, mind-blowingly idiotic’_ . Shin-chan! That’s so rude! _‘Is he even aware of it?’_ This is bullying. You were secretly bullying me when we met. _‘He's going to die someday from pure stupidity does he realize this?’_ Yes. Yes, I do.” He nodded a bit and kept going. “ _‘Somehow has not yet died’_ . Did you really add _‘possibly immortal’_ in the margins? Really, Shin-chan?”

Midorima rolled his eyes. “Yes, really. Now, it’s been very fun reliving my life as a seventeen-year-old criminal doctor-in-training, but how about you just give that back to me now?” he said, reaching out for the file again.

“I’ll give it back when I’ve read this whole thing,” Takao told him. “Patience, Shin-chan.”

Midorima sighed, took a seat, and waited reluctantly for his imminent death by embarrassment.

“You felt very passionate about those twine stitches. They are in all caps. All you wrote was _‘twine stitches’_. I don’t know what to clarify for you.”

“There is nothing to clarify, they were objectively an abomination to medicine.”

“That sounds pretty subjective, Shin-chan.”

“It’s not.”

Takao kept going like Midorima hadn’t said anything. “ _‘He thinks “but I lived” is good enough justification for all questionable medical decisions.’_ Um, it is. I’m still alive.”

“By some unprecedented, coincidental series of miracles.”

“Pretty vain to call yourself a miracle,” Takao said loftily. “ _‘Warped concept of self-worth.’_ ” He didn’t look particularly thrilled with that one, but he kept a smile firmly in place. “I know, right. I value myself like a regular person instead of the god that I should be known as.” He kept going before Midorima could say anything to that. “ _‘Progress: actually adhered to prescribed bed-rest’._ I couldn’t feel my leg. Of course I didn’t want to get up and walk around.” He could envision a timeline forming in his head as he read through the list.

“A numb leg is _not_ the only reason to rest after you’ve been injured,” Midorima protested grumpily.

“Sure, sure, a deadly stab wound is a good one too,” he agreed amicably. “ _‘Looks very’_ —” He squinted at the several scratched out words before giving up and reading what hadn’t been crossed out. “ _‘different while asleep.’ Different,_ Shin-chan?” He arched his eyebrows with a smug grin. “Care to elaborate?” 

“No,” Midorima said curtly, the blush persisting, because he knew that the rest of the list would elaborate _plenty._

“Fine fine, keep your secrets. _‘He’s very familiar and skilled with guns, but doesn’t seem to carry one.’_ Not when I could avoid it. I’m not what you would call a fan. _‘It took the combined influences of cocaine, tequila, blood loss, and a thoughtless comment on my behalf to procure details about his past.’_ Nothing gets you talking quite like that combination. What did you write in the margins? Shin-chan, you didn’t need med school, you’ve got doctor handwriting down; I want your glasses. _‘He doesn’t seem to remember doing this. Do not ask.’_ I sure do not remember.”

He completely skipped over the next one, _‘Despite enduring so much trauma at a young age, he almost always acts cheerful and optimistic to a fault.’_

“ _‘Proximity is distracting.’_ ” Takao looked over at Midorima in surprise at that one.

Midorima tensed—the vague wording had been his way of attempting to express emotions then that he had a much better understanding of now. He crossed his arms in front of him and averted his gaze. “...What?” he muttered.

Takao considered pursuing an answer, but decided to keep reading instead. “ _‘His presence in my office, announced or otherwise, has somehow become the norm, even if he isn't injured.’_ That's called us being friends.”

“It’s been six years. I don’t particularly need that insight,” Midorima commented dryly.

“Sure, sure. I just can't believe you didn't know six years ago. _‘It appears his intelligence may have more potential than I originally thought.’_ Aw, you think I'm smart. _‘He has at least a basic understanding of college- and professional-level medical textbooks. Perhaps he’ll learn something.’_ I think I learned a lot.” He let out a small whistle. “You really disagreed though. Some angry writing there. _‘He has learned nothing.’_ That's rude.”

“If you learned anything, your medical decisions certainly didn’t show it.”

“Learning and using are two different things,” Takao pointed out.

“One without the other is still usually indicative of stupidity,” Midorima countered.

“Shin-chan, you're killing me here.” Takao whined before looking down to continue, surprise registering on his face as he did so. “ _‘Takao’s bare torso had no reason to be on this list previously, but today it caused a malfunction in my brain that compelled me to stare?’_ ” He could feel a slight blush forming on his cheeks and resolutely ignored it to soldier on. “‘ _Why now? What is making me so,’_ ” Takao tried again to read the scribbled out words, but the ones left there were hard enough to decipher without lines through them. “ _‘Attracted to him? It can't be his personality; that's ridiculous.’_ And that's rude.” He huffed the last part, not making eye contact, keeping his eyes firmly on the paper.

Meanwhile, Midorima was now watching Takao intently for his reactions, his heartbeat racing even as he accepted his impending doom. “Rude, but not entirely unwarranted,” he retorted half-heartedly.

“My personality is great. You've got a bad habit of writing in margins. _‘I have discovered that the terms demisexual and demiromantic seem to accurately describe this phenomenon’._ I'm glad I could help you figure out your sexuality. I cannot read this next one. You're not clear and cross too much out. You want something, but seem unsure of what it is.”

“...I believe there is a margin note beside that one, as well,” Midorima suggested reluctantly.

“Your margin notes are killing me. _‘...some sort of unanticipated development having to do with emotions.’_ You wanted an emotional development or had one?”

“I’m assuming the latter, seeing as the former seems unlikely for anyone.”

“Right.” The next one looked safe. “ _‘Called in a favor from Haizaki, of all people, to get me out of a hostage situation.’_ Well yeah. I was going to do everything in my power to make sure you were okay.”

“I believe the concern in this case lies more with what you _did_ to get Haizaki to owe you a favor,” Midorima said, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, he was in a pinch cause one of his suppliers got arrested and he had a big deal coming up so I let him borrow mine,” Takao explained.

“That… makes sense, I suppose.” For some reason, he'd imagined worse.

“It’s always nice to have powerful people owe you one, Shin-chan. You also could have just asked me at the time. Alright, let’s keep going. Fuck, your handwriting is already hard enough to read without you crossing something out. _‘Seems... seems to think we cannot be friends unless I know how to defend myself.’_ I stand by that decision. I didn’t want you getting hurt because of me. I think since you’re moving out for similar reasons, you can better understand my position. ‘ _Side note: This point has been clarified and now makes sense after speaking with his friend Riko.’_ Traitor. Alright, you’ve gotta stop writing things when you’re pissed, holy shit.” Takao squinted at the page until he finally made out _‘Why does it still hurt?’_ . “Oh. Sorry about that.” He glanced away. At the time he hadn’t thought Midorima would care so much. “ _‘Why is my smile significant to him?’_ Oh, this was around when you first smiled at me, right? It’s very important, don’t question it.”

Midorima’s face was steadily flushing more as the writing became increasingly personal. “I doubt it was the first time I _ever_ smiled in your presence,” he said with a scoff. “It was just the first time you decided to be obnoxious about it.”

“No, really, it was the first time you smiled at me. The best I’d gotten before that was maybe you looking a bit fond, but not actual smiles,” Takao insisted.

“If you say so,” he muttered in response.

“I do say so. I mean, I don’t keep a little list, but I know things too,” Takao replied, moving on to the next one. “ _‘His relationship with Nijimura??? What is it? Are they friends?’_ No, Shin-chan. We are not.” Takao pulled a face at the implication.

“Well if he isn't your friend, _or_ your mother, who is he, exactly?”

“A guy that I punched when I first met him, and would like to punch again. Do you think he’ll kick my ass if I try to hit him next time I see him?”

“I certainly wouldn't put it past him.”

“Fair enough. I might still try it,” Takao mused. “He still says I was in the wrong. I think literally picking someone up off the street is reason to punch them.”   

“I believe circumstances would affect the morality of violent action in that case,” Midorima pointed out.

“No they don’t.” Takao looked away and muttered the next part. “He... may have been trying to help me. But I didn’t know him! He was just some random guy telling me I could stay with him for the night since it was snowing and then he refused to take no for an answer. Something about not wanting my frostbite on his conscience or whatever.”  He was actually the first of Takao’s friends to let him stay with them instead of living on the streets, but it had kind of freaked Takao out at the time.

“And then you became friends,” Midorima prompted.

“No,” Takao said firmly.

Midorima just rolled his eyes. “Alright.”

“Did you really. . . okay. _‘Evidence against:’_ I cannot believe you made evidence for and against me being friends with him. _‘He called Nijimura his mother...’_ He is. That is his contact name in my phone too. _‘Evidence in favor:  He actually got his phone bill paid by Nijimura? And it was sent to my office? With extra money and instructions to ‘buy something healthy to eat’. What are they? They have to be friends of some sort.’_ No. That just proves he’s trying to be my mother.”

“...Mother and friend aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“They are when they are both him. Continuing... _‘the return of his casual presence in my office has been more relieving than anticipated’_. I’ll make sure to keep a casual presence in your new place then.”

Midorima averted his eyes briefly with self-consciousness at his own writing, but also nodded his approval at Takao’s addition with a soft, “Good.”

“ _‘He’s completely unfazed by knowledge of my powers.’_ Eh, doesn’t make you a different person. And look where we are now. _‘Had coffee with a male stripper? (previously has only mentioned  girlfriends?) Bisexual or Pansexual?’_ ” He had to squint again at the writing in the margins with an arrow pointing to the word pansexual.  “‘ _Pansexual has nothing to do with kitchenware.’_ Really, Shin-chan? Really? To answer the question: I’m pansexual.”

Midorima acknowledged the new information, and then, a bit defensive, said, “I’m certain the clarifying note was necessary at the time, considering I hadn’t felt the need to consider such things until—” He bit back the “until I met you” and instead finished with, “...until then.”

“Well, just know, I don’t want to get it on with your kitchenware any time soon,” Takao told him before continuing. “ _‘Unfathomable attachment to the badly-made duct tape wallet I made.’_ I resent that; it was well made. It lasted me two months. _‘He refuses to get a real wallet and has asked me for a new one now that the old one has fallen apart. I offered to buy him a new one if it was about money. He refused. I made him a new wallet.’_ I like having a wallet that you made me.” He could feel the most recent one’s weight in his back pocket.

“It’s _duct tape_ ,” Midorima objected weakly, knowing after all this time, nothing would change Takao’s mind on this matter.

“And?” Takao arched an eyebrow.

“ _And_ , it’s not practical.”

“You’re practical enough for the both of us and my wallet.”

Midorima scoffed. “That makes no sense.”

“Fight me about it. _‘Seemed to rush to my office immediately after the Kuroko Tetsuya’_ no wait, you crossed that out and put _‘phantom’_ above it, _‘incident, then proceeded to stay to the point that he needed to put caffeine pills in coffee to stay awake.’_ Well I wasn’t just going to leave you there on your own.” Takao rolled his eyes and kept going. “ _‘He won’t sell me drugs????? He’s a drug dealer???????????’_ I wasn’t starting you on a drug habit.”

Midorima shrugged a little sheepishly. “In my defense, I was very sleep-deprived.”

“That’s also part of why I wasn’t going to sell you drugs. I can tell you were sleep deprived in this next one. It’s the first one written in all capital letters since twine stitches.   _‘EVERYTHING. I HAVE BEEN AWAKE FOR TWO DAYS AND EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM IS CONFUSING AND RED BULL TASTES DISGUSTING. WHY DID HE BRING ME THAT INSTEAD OF DRUGS????????????’_ I was trying to help. I’m sorry you didn’t like Red Bull.”

“I… don’t even remember writing that one. Hm,” Midorima said, mildly concerned for a moment but shrugging it off. “The non-sleep-deprived version of me is grateful,” he assured Takao.

“I should have just made you sleep then. _‘Why do I want him to come with me?’_ Is this about when you were about to leave?” Takao asked with a tilt of his head.

Midorima froze—he had let his guard down after several more innocuous notes, but now, after hearing this one, he was vividly reminded of the ones that followed, and felt his heart rate increasing again. He eventually made himself nod stiffly in response to Takao, switching between watching his face carefully and averting his gaze nervously.

Takao looked back down to the list and read the last three things on it. “ _‘Why can’t I tell him that I’m leaving tomorrow? Why did he say no to leaving with me? Why do I miss him so much?’_ So, does the you liking me thing still apply now?” Takao wouldn't quite meet Midorima’s eyes as he asked the question, and he tried to sound casual, but mostly sounded uncertain and hopeful.

Midorima tried to breathe evenly, though he felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. His first instinct would be to ask for clarity to buy time, even though he knew perfectly well what Takao meant, but after the casual way he’d reacted to most of the rest of Midorima’s writing, the note of uncertainty in his voice now made Midorima reconsider. He looked up, and saw Takao—his closest friend, someone he’d known for years and trusted more than anyone else, trusted with his _life_ , even owed him his life on several occasions, and had generally just been there for him at a lot of times when there was no one else. If he couldn’t be straightforward and honest about something like this now, after all they’d been through… then what was the point?

Without taking his eyes off of Takao (though that made him flush even more), he first nodded. And then realized that was wildly insufficient, so he made himself answer, in a quiet, barely-level voice, “Yes. ...More so after all these years, if anything.”

Takao’s face was starting to turn pink, but he had a small smile on his face. “I like you too,” he told Midorima, sitting down on the couch next to him and lacing their fingers together.

Midorima’s brain was fuzzy at this point, and any sense of logic that he’d usually turn to to decide what to do was inaccessible. He did know that he’d rarely—if ever—seen this kind of expression on Takao’s face, and that he really liked the way Takao’s hand fit in his. He found it very difficult to convey anything coherent out loud though, so he just stared, eventually managing a vague, “...Oh. That’s good.”

Takao let out a small chuckle at the reply. “Very romantic, Shintarou,” he said, looking up at Midorima through his lashes.

Midorima had never been more grateful for his power than at this very instant, because at this proximity he could hear Takao’s heart beating as quickly as his own, and could see every fleck of color in his eyes. He brought his other hand up to gently cup Takao’s face, feeling the warmth from his flushed cheeks. Without even really thinking about it, he found himself whispering, “You’re beautiful.”

Takao’s breath caught for a moment before he leaned forward to gently press their lips together.

Midorima wasn’t sure how to react, but he trusted Takao, so he relaxed and let it happen, and found he rather enjoyed how soft and warm Takao’s lips were against his own. After a few seconds that seemed to last hours, they parted and Takao smiled at him.

“I wish we had figured this out sooner. I’m gonna miss having you around all the time.”

Midorima squeezed his hand. “I suppose that just means we’ll have to visit each other quite often.”

“I certainly plan on it. I'll be inside chatting with you before Aho-chan can even try to close the door in my face. Which, he totally told me he would do by the way. It was rude.”

“From what I have seen, his entire existence itself is rude,” Midorima said with a slight frown.

“I'm so glad that _I_ don't have to live with him and so sorry you do,” Takao replied.

Midorima sighed. “Necessary evils,” he muttered.

“Arguable,” Takao countered.

“For someone as hard-headed as you, anything is arguable,” Midorima said, equal parts exasperation and fondness in his voice and expression.

“Even that statement is arguable. I’m sure there’s something that I could say for sure with no arguments,” Takao said, amusement shining in his eyes. “Like not being friends with Niji-chan. Oh, speaking of him, he’s coming back to Japan permanently, so if you guys need superpower stuff, hit him up. He’s gonna be crashing here for a while until he finds a place of his own. The apartment he usually keeps for when he comes back kinda got destroyed in a superhero fight,” Takao told Midorima.

Midorima raised his eyebrows. “He’s staying with you… but you aren’t friends.”

“Please stop questioning it, Shin-chan. It’s an odd relationship, but I refuse to call it friendship. He’ll hear me from America somehow.”

“...Very well,” Midorima relented, and then after a moment, hummed in consideration. “I suppose, if Nijimura is coming to stay, I should finish packing sooner rather than later…” he said, but made no move to actually get up, feeling quite comfortable where he was.

“It’s just Niji-chan. Don’t rush for him,” Takao said with a roll of his eyes.

Normally, Midorima would have made himself get up and get back to work anyway, but he’d been packing and organizing for hours, and had just been forced to face a lot of memories and emotions he’d mostly kept buried, so he couldn’t say he was very interested in being anywhere at the moment besides right there next to Takao, holding his hand. “...Alright then,” he said, and settled back into the couch, ready to take a break.

Takao smiled triumphantly and settled in against Midorima, resting his head on Midorima’s good shoulder—after arranging him so that his shoulder was low enough that it wasn’t incredibly uncomfortable with the height difference—and flipped on the television.

* * *

They eventually got back to packing, and a couple of days later, they were at the doorstep of the Generation of Miracles’ house, boxes in hand— or box in Midorima’s case— and a full moving van parked behind them. Midorima was just raising his hand to ring the doorbell when an explosion shook the house, followed by the sounds of angry and panicked shouting.

“Well, on that note. I’m leaving. Later, Shin-chan! Good luck!” Takao put down the boxes he’d been carrying and started to walk away.

“No, wait, you can’t just—Takao!” Midorima called after him.

“I can just and I plan to!” Takao called over his shoulder as Momoi opened the door.

“Midorin! And Takao-kun!” she said cheerfully, even as smoke rose from a singed part of her skirt.

Midorima stared at the smoking spot for a moment, hoping it wasn’t about to combust into flames, and then asked, “...Is it safe to come in, or should we come back another day?”

“It’s fine. It’s fine. C’mon in,” she said with a reassuring smile.

“I’m good!” Takao was getting further away.

“Takao! Get back here!”

From inside the house came an angry yell of “KISE!” and the panicked response of “ACK, MURASAKICCHI, SAVE ME!”

“Ehhh? From Mine-chin? You’re fine.”

Kise burst out of the house and spotted Takao. “Kazucchi! Help!” Takao started jogging.

Hearing more steps thundering towards the door, both Midorima and Momoi took a large step back to steer clear of Aomine’s war path as he stormed by with the occasional spark flying in his wake.

“Kazucchi! Please!”

Takao was gone.

“Wow. That super speed stuff really worked,” Momoi commented. “ _So,_ since you’re all out here, you can help Midorin move in!” she said, clapping her hands together to get everyone’s attention.

A chorus of protests arose, from everyone both inside and outside the house… except for Midorima, who sighed and glanced once more in the direction Takao had disappeared, before stepping forward to carry the first box of many over the threshold of his new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright you guys, this is the end for this story, but as we said before there will be more to come in this series! Thank you all so much for sticking with us, and we hope you enjoyed it! Be sure to drop a comment to let us know what you thought!


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